The Wolf Pact
by Zute
Summary: The Warden Commander finds herself falling for a wanted criminal, the Dark Wolf.
1. Chapter 1

_**Note: **__This is from the dragon age k!meme. I'm toning it down slightly to post here. :)  
_

**The Vigil**

"The... what?" Delia Tabris sputtered, her mouth dropping open.

"The Dark Wolf," Varel repeated. "He's something of a shady character operating in Amaranthine, or so I've heard." He shrugged noncommittally. "Perhaps just a local legend, but people say he is a thorn in the side of the nobility. A sort of Ferelden _Black Fox_. You're familiar with the story?"

Delia fumed silently. "Yes, the Black Fox was an Orlesian lord who was forever disrupting some plots of another Orlesian lord."

"I can ask around and see if we can find this... Dark Wolf character. He might be able to help you figure out who the conspirators are."

"I hardly need help with such a matter. I..." she trailed off. It was too early to trust Varel with such things. "I suppose I will be rather busy. I could use the help. See if you can find this _Dark Wolf._"

She could barely suppress the scorn in her voice. She and Zevran were the Dark Wolf! How dare someone else usurp the title. She wanted to meet this _Dark Wolf_. If for no other reason than to school him to not steal other people's nom de guerre.

**Denerim, The Blight**

_"Fuck!"_ Delia cursed. She threw open the locked chest after deftly picking the lock. _"There's nothing here, Zev."_

_"Brasca!" he swore. "Did Slim set us up, amora?"_

_"It was too easy to get here," she said, finally realizing what should have been obvious. You don't have an estate full of painting and antiquities without a heavy guard.  
_  
_The scrapping of metal boots and sound of swords leaving their sheaths alerted them to the trap. The two rogues hid quickly, wrapping themselves in shadows and slipping out behind the guards. They worked their way silently down the corridors, carefully disarming all the traps on the way, neutralizing a guard or two. Finally the exit was in sight but they'd never get past the final group of guards... Where had they been when they entered? Delia threw a stone to distract them. They turned, predictably, and Delia clocked one, Zev got the other. The mage saw them and was nearly cast on them but Delia's daggers took him in the throat and the gut._

_Delia headed for the sewer that would lead them to the aqueduct running_ under the city.

_"Wait!_" Zevran hissed at her.

_"Oh for fuck's sake, Zev, what?" _

_He smiled rakishly and rummaged through her pack. He pulled out an old wolf skin she had forgotten about._

_"Every good cat burglar leaves a calling card, no?"_

_Delia grimaced. "A moldering old wolf skin?"_

_"Times are hard, dulce." He drew a vial out of his own pack and dribbled the contents in a pattern. Then he lit it on fire. A "D" was burning into the back of the wolf skin._

_"Let's go, the smoke will draw them." She shimmied down the ladder to the aqueduct and they ran until they were certain they had lost any pursuit. They climbed out of the aqueduct. Dressed all in black, as they were, and staying to the shadows, they wound their way through the alleys of Denerim to the Market District nearly invisible. Zevran pulled her back as she was about to cross the square to the tavern. Someone was talking to Sargent Kylon._

_"Listen," he hissed at her, his hands against her shoulders, pinning her to the building at her back. She strained her ears trying to hear what was being said. Zevran kissed her neck, ran his tongue up to her ear. They were only a few yards from Sargent Kylon, any sound would draw attention to them._

_"Bann Franderel's estate has been burglarized," the man speaking to the Sargent said. "There was a murder. One of the Bann's servants died in the burglary."_

_Zevran's hand worked up Delia's cuirass and he teased her nipple with his hand. She couldn't help the small groan the escaped her._

_Zevran put a finger to his lips. Then he put his hand over her mouth and pinched her nipple the way that always made her squeal. She bucked against him, flexing her hips into his growing erection. It was becoming very difficult to listen in on the conversation._

_"... a flaming initial on a wolf pelt. A 'D'."_

_The danger of discovery, the challenge of being perfectly silent, not to mention their earlier escape, excited her. She pressed herself hard against the assassin. The only sound she made was the soft hiss of her breath through her nose. Zevran shifted his hand from her breast to the laces on her leather breeches. He undid them just enough that he could put his hand into them. His finger slid across her, finding her surprisingly wet and excited. He collected her moisture on his fingers and rubbed around her nub, teasing her._

_Her breath came faster and her eyes narrowed but she held his amber eyes with her black ones. She bucked against his hand, wanting more. He smiled at her, the moon shining on his pale hair, watching her eyes grow unfocused and glazed. Then he gave her what she wanted, the pressure and the friction along with nearly painful bites on her neck. He still covered her mouth with his free hand and her breath seethed through her nose as her body seized up with a final buck against his hand and the tiniest sound escaped her throat but was stifled by his hand._

_"Very well," Kylon said, "I will be by shortly to take a look."_

_Zevran kissed her ear and whispered into it. "Let's go. I've caught a cat burglar and I intend to have my way with her until she begs me to turn her into the guard."_

_A sly smile twisted at Delia's mouth, catching onto his game. "Have mercy, milord!" she whispered back. She quickly laced up her breeches and they crossed the square to the room they shared at the Gnawed Noble._

_It was a secret they kept from the others, their work with Slim Couldry. It was easier that way. Alistair and Wynne would complain endlessly about their larcenous adventures. Delia loved it. There was nothing so rewarding as robbing, or outsmarting, a shem noble._

_Zevran said her voice was magical. She could talk nearly anyone into anything: Ser Nancine, for instance. It had been a challenge she couldn't resist. The woman had a terrible cough and she had convinced her it was something potentially fatal. She took her acting to absurd lengths and actually convinced the woman to hyperventilate until she had passed out. Then they stole an elaborately bejeweled ceremonial sword from the stupid shem. When they had gotten back to their room, barely suppressing their laughter, she had ravished Zevran._

_Being an outlaw agreed with Delia._

**Amaranthine City**

Amaranthine City was mess. The Wardens cleared out a nest of smugglers. Delia found herself wishing she were one of them, instead of the law coming down on them. She missed those days in Denerim with Zevran. Never had she imagined that she would end up being the Warden-Commander and responsible for an Arling. The position fit her like a pair of pants three sizes too small. It chaffed, to say the least.

She was anticipating spending some time in the tavern with her fellow wardens. The mage was ... interesting. Somehow she never would have thought a mage could look manly in a robe, and yet he did. His arms were huge, they strained at the short sleeves of his robe, and the robe contoured his torso, revealing a broad chest and narrow hips. She estimated it wouldn't take much persuasion to find out if the goods matched the packaging. So to that end, she was looking forward to ale and seducing the mage.

She followed her Wardens, just about to set her foot inside the tavern, when a young boy accosted her.

"Message, my lady!" he piped at her, his voice a prepubescent soprano. The urchin pressed the note into her hand and ran away before she could question him.

_Fuck! _Delia swore to herself. She'd made some headway on cleaning up her language lately, however her internal dialogue was salty still, to say the least.

_Alley behind the Chantry. Now. Come alone._ _- Dark Wolf_

"Go on ahead without me," Delia told her recruits. "Get rooms for the night. We might as well stay, we have a lot to do here yet."

Seeing the message made her irritation rise again. _The Dark Wolf, indeed! _Her sense of pride demanded she do something about this impostor but her better judgment warned her that revealing who the true Dark Wolf was was imprudent at best, dangerous at worst.

She walked down the alley behind the chantry. The chantry blocked the sun, it was rather dark in the alley even during the afternoon. She was ready to grab her daggers at the least indication of anything amiss. This reminded her of Denerim and her adventures with Zevran. Even the thought of it now, after all these months, made a twinge of excitement lance through her belly.

She might have been reminiscing a little too much, or perhaps she was just out of practice, but hands grabbed her from behind had her on the ground and disarmed and immobilized before she could even twitch.

"My apologies, Warden-Commander," a gruff voice said. "One can't be too careful."

A gag went into her mouth. Her arms and feet were tied and a sack was pulled over her head. She was thrown over someone's shoulder, like a sack of potatoes. She never even saw his face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Amaranthine City**

Delia didn't bother struggling. If the impostor wanted to be mysterious she would not gainsay him. She bumped along with each step, his shoulder pressing into her belly. With nothing else to do, and her vision obscured, she paid close attention to her other senses. He felt like he had human dimensions, from what little she could tell. His hand that held her by the back of her thigh was firm but his grip was not painful. His smell was masculine. It was... leather and some hint of a fragrance. Perhaps he had used a perfumed soap? It tickled at the back of her mind, a fragrance she knew but couldn't quite remember. She turned her head to his neck to see if she could get a better whiff.

_Almond! _It came to her suddenly. _He smells of almond. _The smell made her hungry.

She heard a door open and then she was placed in a chair and a moment later the sack was yanked off her head. She could see but a little; the room was dark, there was only a little light filtering in from a window high up the wall. The place smelled dank. It must be a basement. She couldn't see the impostor, he was standing behind the chair, but she felt his fingers working on the knot of the cloth stopping her mouth.

"My apologies again, Commander, I need to be cautious," he said as he pulled the gag away. His voice was deep, a little roughed, but refined. He was no uneducated alley rat. "There are those who would like to bring the Dark Wolf to justice..."

Delia barked out a short laugh. "I can imagine," she said dryly.

"I bet you can," he said.

She held a footstep and then he was standing before her. She was right, he was bigger than an elf, but he was not a large man. He resembled a rapier more than a claymore. It was difficult to assess him fully in the gloom of the room, although he managed to stand in a sunbeam that illuminated him from the neck down, yet it left his face in shadow. From what she could see he seemed to posses a wiry sort of musculature. Not the big-as-a-bronto muscles like Alistair had, more like Zevran's lithe strength. She could just see a bit of black hair curling around a rather strong looking neck that eased into sufficiently broad shoulders. He wore a muslin shirt, with the ties partly undone, and it was tucked into a pair of brown leather breeks, those in turn, tucked into tall black boots.

_Why am I undressing him already?_ Delia thought. It must have been the months of loneliness since the death of the archdemon and Zevran leaving to return to Antiva. She had tried to erase the loneliness with a series of _encounters_ that could only be counted as imprudent for one as well-known as herself. Alistair himself had even commented on the rumors circulating about her behavior and that she was becoming something of an embarrassment to him. His relief had been obvious when the message came from the First Warden that she was to become Commander of the Grey. She, however, had been dismayed. Denerim had many amusements and her fame had brought her many interesting opportunities for diversions.

When she left Denerim she vowed to try to be a proper Commander and try to uphold some image of dedication and stern rigor she saw Riordan and Duncan had possessed, something completely foreign to her impulsive nature. She was on the verge of failing already, having decided to seduce one of her recruits - that decision having been helped along by a series of coin flips... until she got the result she wanted.

"I heard you were looking for me, Warden-Commander - if that's how you wish to be called now." There was a tone of amusement in his voice.

_What a strange thing to say! _she thought. "It is a mouthful, I know. Just call me Warden if it taxes your tongue. Or Delia, if you wish, I don't insist on formalities. But how should I address you? Dark Wolf just seems so...", _stolen, _"unweildy".

"Call me Wolf, if you wish."

"Well then, _Wolf, _it is a pleasure to meet one of your renown," the sarcasm dripped heavily from her voice. "I remember hearing all about you in Denerim, during the blight. You are quite accomplished thief, stealing the Tears of Andraste right out from under the nose of Bann Franderel and stealing Loghain's crown. I confess, I admire your audacity." She peered into the dark to see his expression, but the shadows were too thick over his face.

"Let's dispense with the pretenses, my lady," he said. "We both know you were the original Dark Wolf."

For the first time, she struggled against her bonds. "Then why did you see fit to steal that title?" she hissed.

She saw his shoulders raise and fall in a shrug. "It seemed you were done with it, having acquired a number of new titles recently like _Hero of Ferelden _and _Warden-Commander_."

She gave a violent twist in the chair and glared at the spot his eyes were likely to be. "Are you even worthy of the name? You could be some ... hedge robber, or a common cutpurse aspiring to undeserved greatness."

Wolf laughed loudly. "Oh ho! Aspiring to greatness? Your greatness, I assume? Such modesty, madam. Have you already forgotten how easily I disabled you in the alley? Besides, were you not seeking me out for help?"

Delia sputtered. "I was... distracted. I was seeking you more out of curiosity than need for your help. I wanted to see who it was that was laying claim to my deeds."

Wolf bowed with a mocking flourish, his head passing momentarily through the beam of light. He wore a black mask that covered the top of his head and had holes for his eyes. "At your service, my lady. But if you have no need of my assistance then perhaps we should go our separate ways."

Delia bit her lip. "Wait..." she said hesitantly, "I could handle this matter myself, but... I'm up to my arse in troubles I must attend to. I suppose I could use help." Asking for help left a bitter taste in her mouth. This was what she excelled at and she didn't know if this poseur could be relied upon.

She heard a low chuckle from Wolf. "Well then, what can the Dark Wolf do for you?" he asked, obviously intent on rubbing the stolen name into her face.

She sniffed disdainfully. "It should be a simple matter, one I would handle myself if I had the time. There's a conspiracy brewing amongst the nobles to get rid of me, in retaliation for my killing Arl Howe. My one reliable witness was murdered, unfortunately. I just want names, I can handle the conspirators."

"That sounds simple enough, Warden-Commander. Anyone supporting Arl Howe deserve what they get," he said, his voice turning bitter.

"You sound like you might have a personal interest."

"I spent a turn in the Arl's dungeon. Some of his friends are at least as bad as he was."

"Well, good then. Since this is something that appeals to you, perhaps you can give me a break on the price? The Arling is in disarray and we're quite broke at the moment."

She heard him laugh again. "My heart breaks, truly, my lady. A poor Arlessa! It tugs at my heart strings. I'm welling up..."

Delia frowned, although she had to admit she would have reacted the same way. She sighed heavily. "Your price, Wolf?"

He put his hand thoughtfully to his chin and mused for a moment. "If you had been anyone else, I would have charged you fifty sovereigns. But since I did steal your old nom de guerre, and because you are so lovely, I will merely ask twenty-five. Barely enough to cover bribes. I only ask for two concessions in return."

"And they are?" she prompted him.

"A kiss from your soft lips and the return of a favor at some point. Perhaps some job I might need assistance with."

Delia was caught flat-footed again, but she nodded in agreement. "Very well," she said.

Wolf took a step and stood beside her chair. With her arms and feet still bound she could do little but look up at him. He lifted her to her feet. His hands wrapped around her waist and he drew her near. His hand weaved through her black hair and tugged her head back as his mouth slowly descended onto hers. His lips were soft on hers, polite, not trying to plunder her. But the smell of leather and almond was intoxicating and she opened her mouth and captured his bottom lip between her teeth. She gave a sharp nip to his lip.

"Real wolves bite," she whispered.

He chuckled and pulled away from her. "I'll remember that." He picked up the sack again. "I apologize for the sack but I'd rather keep this location hidden." He slipped it over her head. She noticed he didn't bother with the gag this time. He picked her up and once again threw her over his shoulder. This time, as he carried her, his hand wrapped a little higher around her thigh than it had before. She squirmed slightly, but not from trying to escape.

After walking for awhile, he put her down on her feet and untied her hands and feet. He pulled the sack off her head and she blinked in the bright sunlight. He wore a helmet now that covered his features entirely, just showing a small reflection of his eyes from deep within.

"I'll contact you soon with names," he promised her. He looked at her a moment longer then walked off down the alley where she had met him.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Denerim, The Blight**___

The teryn's guards were in the backroom of the tavern. Delia bit her lip wondering how she could get in to filch it. Sure, she could just charge in and threaten them but she wanted to keep her identity quiet. Zevran suggested bribing the waitress so they could drug their drinks but that would leave another witness and Delia did not want her larceny to be a problem at the Landsmeet. No, she was going to have to do something else.

"I need a disguise," she told Zevran.

"A waitress?" he suggested. "Or how about a prostitute?"

"Maybe the prostitute would work." The beginnings of a plan took hold. "But we don't have enough time to go traipsing around Denerim putting together a disguise."

Zevran mused a moment. "Do you still carry around your wedding clothes?"

Delia grimaced, "Yes, they're in my backpack. But they're rather proper looking. I can't imagine any prostitute would get much action in them."

Zevran pulled her into a backroom. "We'll fix that. Put it on."

Delia put on her wedding dress, fortunately she had washed out the blood stains long ago. Zevran pulled out his dagger and with a big grin started to remodel her togs. The highish scooped neck became a plunging v-neck. He hoisted the dresses corset up so that it pushed up her breasts. Granted there wasn't much there to push up so Zevran reached inside and used some extra fabric to pad out the bottom of her breasts. It was surprising how much more... present they looked.

"How the hell do you know how to do this?" she asked. She admired her more generous bosom in the mirror.

"Part of the training, my dear." He eyed the dress then sliced it up the side on both sides so her legs would show when she walked. Next he pulled her hair out of her braid and he fluffed it up so she looked like she'd just gotten out of bed. "Wet your lips."

She moistened her lips and struck a seductive pose. "Think this will do it?"

Zevran smiled slyly and pulled her to him. "It's working on me."

She laughed. "Well, hopefully they don't have any better taste in women than you do."

"I think you just insulted yourself... or me, I'm not sure which." Zevran rummaged through his pack and pulled out a vial. "This should do it. Pour it into their pitcher of ale and they should be snoring long before they find out your breasts are mostly stuffing."

Delia plucked the vial out of his hand with a saucy look. "I think I can handle this."

"I'll be watching, just in case."

Delia opened the door to the backroom and wove her way up to the bar. Her hips swishing and her gait unsteady. She leaned heavily against the bar.

"Oy, barkeep! A pitcher of your finest ale."

The barkeeper recognized her, she'd been doing some less than legal favors for him over the last few weeks. He ran his eyes across her chest.

Delia tilted her head, trying to meet his eyes. "Eyes up here, mister," she hissed.

"Uh, oh sorry, Warden. Um, what's with the ..." he gestured at her outfit. His eyes once again drifted to her chest and refused to budge from the artfully arranged mounds, barely constrained in her dress.

"A... job," she spoke softly. "You need to forget you saw me here today? And I really do want that pitcher of ale." She pushed an overly generous stack of coins to him.

"As you say, Warden." He regretfully tore his eyes away from her hillocks and filled a pitcher full of ale. "Glass?" he asked her.

"Yes."

He filled her mug with beer from the pitcher, nearly letting it overflow, his eyes were otherwise occupied.

The moment he stepped away, to work on something else, she dumped the contents of the vial into the pitcher. She picked up the full glass of ale with one hand and the pitcher with the other and swayed to the backroom with Loghain's guards. She stepped into the room and none of them even looked up at her, they were deep in conversation. Delia bit her lip a moment.

"Eeeeee!" she squealed with a loud, high pitched sound. "Oh Andraste's tits, look what I've done!" She looked down at her chest, she had sloshed a little ale on the bare expanse.

That worked. All three of the men were now looking at her. She smiled drunkenly at them. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be a-botherin' you gents. I was just sent here by Sanga."

One of the guards smiled broadly. "Sanga? Well... you're a pretty one. I don't recall seeing you at the Pearl."

"I'm new, just got here from Highever. But that's not here nor there, sugar. I've sloshed on myself. Could I borrow your napkin?"

One guard got up to give her his napkin. She looked at him helplessly, her hands filled with her own mug and the pitcher. "Would you be a dear?" She thrust her chest out at him.

"Certainly!" he said eagerly. He gently daubed at her chest with the napkin.

"Thank you! You have a nice way about you," she complimented him. The guard blushed and sat down with his mates.

"Well, don't mind me. I'm just here to meet someone. Robert." She tottered on her feet a bit for good effect.

"Why don't you sit with us while you wait, the guard with the napkin suggested."

"I won't be bothering you?"

"No, of course not," another insisted.

"Well then, please help yourself to the ale. It's good. Sanga sprang for the best. If Rutherford is late, he'll just miss out!"

"Didn't you just say his name was Robert?"

"Did I? Well, now that I think about it, I don't rightly recall his name. Hm, it's going to be hard to meet someone whose name I don't even know. Well, never mind that." She poured some of her ale into all their glasses, fortunately they had nearly emptied them.

"Since it's his coin, let's toast to this missing Robert or Rutherford," one of the guards raised his mug.

Delia giggled and clinked glasses with the men. "Drink up, lads. I think Richard would have wanted you to be happy with his ale and his wench."

"To the dearly departed, Richard!" One of the other guards toasted. "May he not find his way back to the tavern."

The third guard had been sitting in a corner looking distinctly sour. "Good ser, you haven't touched Rutherford's ale, I think he'd be displeased."

"I don't drink with knife-eared whores," he sneered at her.

Oh dear, Delia thought, this one would be challenging. The other two men seemed to be racing each other to the bottom of their mugs. It would be a problem if they passed out while their friend stayed awake.

"What do you do with knife-eared whores, then?" she asked provocatively. "It would seem I have some free time, perhaps you could show me."

The other two guards were beginning to slur their speech and nod. She had to get him out of there now. She stood up and extended her hand. "Come on, sugar, this one is on the house."

The third guard's mouth twisted. "Whores don't give it away." Then he seemed to notice his two friends on the verge of passing out. "You've poisoned them." He stood quickly, his chair falling backwards, and drew his weapon.

Delia pulled a dagger from a sheath strapped to her leg. "It would have been much easier, shem, if you'd just had the ale. Now I have to get unpleasant." All signs of her drunkenness were gone. She stood in a fighter's stance, waiting for him to advance. "You know, the last man who called me a knife-eared whore died tragically."

Delia caught sight of Zevran sneaking into the room, behind the guard. She'd need to hold his attention.

"I'd so love to gut another worthless shem. You all squeal like pigs when you're stuck. Would you like to see?" She feinted towards him, her dagger lashing out at him. He easily parried her but his attention was completely on her and Zevran's blow to the back of his head was a complete surprise. The grumpy guard crumbled to the ground.

"It was working so well and this one just had to ruin it all."

"Tsk. There's one at every party," Zevran said.

"What do we do with him?" she mused aloud. "He could identify me."

Zevran shook his head. "I think he needs to go for a swim. His friends will wake up and assume he stole the crown."

Delia sighed theatrically. "When will the killing end?"

They set to work and took Loghain's crown. Zevran dug out another musty old wolf pelt and laid it over one of the slumbering guards. They toted the unconscious grumpy guard out of a back window and weighted him down with some rocks and threw him in the river.  
  
_As they were walking back to the Arl's estate they nearly ran into Eamon. Zevran quickly pushed her against the side of a building and kissed her, obscuring their faces._

"It is disgusting how these creatures rut in the very streets of Denerim," the Arl commented sourly as he passed.

Delia peeked out from behind Zevran and saw that Alistair was walking with the Arl. She hid her face again and they waited until they had passed.  



	4. Chapter 4

**The Vigil**

Delia's legs were leaden as she walked up the stairs to her bedroom. The last few days had been grueling, fighting bandits and scavengers in the Wending Woods. The finale to that was fighting a pair of vicious dragonlings the Architect had unleashed on them. They had been a silent, somber bunch on the way back to the keep. Delia was finally becoming the Warden-Commander she thought she should be, simply because she was too tired and busy to be distracted by other diversions. She had even left the mage alone... for now.

She threw down her backpack in a corner of her room.

"Where's my bath?" she shouted down the hall, hoping a servant would hear. Her voice was hoarse from exhaustion. She sat on the edge of her bed and began to peel off the weapons and armor. It wasn't long before an apologetic servant came in bearing heated water. Delia simply grunted a response, too tired to actually form words. Once the tub was filled she eased down into it slowly, letting the hot water settle into her bones and relieve her aches. When it had cooled some, she ducked her head under to wet her hair, then lathered it and rinsed. It was unsettling how much blood and dust had been lodged in her hair.

She let her head loll back against the side of the tub and she dozed off for awhile. Eventually the water was simply too cold to bear and she got out and dried off. She crawled into bed, naked, as was her wont, and sighed deeply as her head sank into the down pillow. She was asleep before she had drawn five more breaths.

...

Wolf had a name for Delia. He threw a cloth wrapped grappling hook over the edge of the balcony railing leading to her bedroom and easily scaled the wall. He slipped over the railing silently and picked the lock to her balcony door. He carefully opened the door, hoping it wouldn't squeak, and it didn't. But he only opened it as much as he had to slip inside, then closed it again, lest the breeze warn her.

The moonlight flooded her room, showing a still-life painted in washed out blue, gray, and black. The elf was sound asleep on her stomach, her arms splayed out around her and her blankets around her hips, as if she had been tussling in her dreams. Her long, black hair lay spread out over the pillow and her bare back, a piece of it moving rhythmically with her breath where it had fallen against her face. She looked to be sleeping the extremely deep sleep of an exhausted child.

Wolf knew the risks. If she was half as good as the stories, she could be awake now, just waiting for him to get close enough to plunge a dagger into his gut. She'd sleep with her daggers under her pillow, of course. Certainly the rhythmic breathing and slight snore could be a ruse. Even the pose with the bare expanse of back showing was probably contrived as well, designed to lure someone closer - perhaps to inspire desire and the mistakes one makes when one wants so badly to pull away that curtain of black hair and run their hand down the lithe torso of the elf. And yet he crossed the floor, his footsteps silent, and stood next to her bed.

She didn't spring up and attack him, so he carefully sat on the edge of her bed thinking the movement would surely awaken her. He was ready for it.

Nothing. There was no reaction from the elf. Wolf's brow furrowed. _Some legend, _he thought. He bent over her and pulled her hair away from her back. Still no response. A smile tugged at his lips. He could see her back now. It was sculpted with muscle and the perfectly shaped bones. He could just see where her back began to rise into her pert backside.

"Delia," he whispered softly. She didn't stir. He put his hand on her back and called her name again. This time she sighed in her sleep. Emboldened he pulled the hair away from her face and kissed her cheek.

Delia's eyes snapped open. She awoke to a man's face just inches away from her own. Her hands plunged under her pillow, looking for her daggers. They were missing! Then she remembered discarding her weapons before crawling into the tub. In her exhaustion she had forgotten to put them under her pillow. It didn't matter now, he was pinning her to the bed. His knee on her back and his hands trapping her wrists.

"Gethefuckoffme!" she yelled almost incoherently.

"Shush, Commander. I'm not here to hurt you. I just wanted to talk."

"Wolf?" she could only just see him. His dark mask was the most recognizable feature she could make out.

"Yes."

"Oh. Well, couldn't you have made an appointment?" She paused a moment. "No, I suppose not."

"Are we good?" he asked.

"We're good. Now get the fuck off me!" she enunciated more clearly this time.

He unpinned her but she didn't move. If she sat up or rolled over she'd expose her bare chest to him. He chuckled and pulled the blanket up to her neck.

"Thank you," she grumbled. She rolled over, clutching the blanket to her chest and then sat up.

"Your security is terrible," Wolf remarked. "It couldn't have been easier getting up here. The lock on your balcony door is flimsy and you need more guards patrolling the grounds."

Delia's dark eyebrows pulled down and her eyes narrowed. "What the..."

Wolf interrupted her. "And you... I would have thought you, of all people, would know the importance of sleeping armed and with one eye open. Yet you were sleeping like baby for the ten minutes I've been here."

Delia squeaked with sudden rage. "You!" she hissed, "You have no idea what I've been through the last few days. I'm utterly exhausted. And soldiers? You ignorant bastard, I don't have enough soldiers to go around to protect the people from darkspawn attacks. I can't spare any to guard the keep from common footpads!" She grabbed her pillow and hit Wolf with it.

Her blanket slipped down with Wolf caught an eyeful before she hugged the pillow to her chest.

"You should eat more," he told her. "You're looking rather scrawny for a wealthy Arlessa."

"Fuck you! Did you just come here to criticize me and poke your nose into things that have nothing to do with your job? Or was there a purpose to this visit?" Delia knew she was getting way too skinny. There just wasn't time to pay attention to eating properly and the physical demands had been immense. She sometimes thought she looked like a boy when she looked in the mirror. Her breasts which had been meager before were even less present now. It was a topic she was very sensitive about right now.

"I just want to make sure my partner will be competent when the time comes," he told her.

"Partner? That's overstating our agreement a bit don't you think?"

He shrugged, his mouth showed his amusement. Baiting her was rather fun, she was so defensive about almost everything. "The reason I'm here, however, is to give you a name. I've found one of the conspirators."

"Oh good. It's gratifying to see you're doing something other than poking your nose into business that does not concern you!"

"Ser Timothy is one you might want to get rid of. Not a major player, but he's definitely in on it. I'm not surprised, the man was one of Howe's toadies from way back."

"Thank you. I'll see to Ser Timothy as soon as I can. Are there others do you think?"

"Oh yes, quite a few if the rumors are true. You've made an impressive number of enemies. Be patient, I'll be back with more names soon."

"How are you going to do it?" he asked her. He didn't want to leave yet.

"How is that your business?" she replied gruffly.

"Just professional curiosity. If I might make a suggestion, the man takes a horse out every morning."

"Well, that is useful information. I suppose a poisoned darkspawn arrow might do."

She sat looking at him, wondering why he didn't seem to be leaving.

"Is there anything more?" she asked.

"No. Not really. Well, one more question."

"Very well," she replied wearily.

He leaned closer to her and sniffed sensually. "What is that fragrance?"

Delia's mouth dropped with disbelief. "It's just soap! Get out of here!" She was about to throw her pillow at him but remember it was covering her scant chest.

Wolf laughed. His dark eyes danced behind his mask. He got up and made a mocking bow to her. "Until next time, my lady." He left via her balcony.

Delia buried herself back into her bed. _Maker, that man is damned infuriating! _she thought. It was even more infuriating was how she couldn't get the thought of those mocking dark eyes out of her head, or the way his black hair curled where his strong neck met his shoulders, or the graceful strength in his hands. She remembered his words and got up and grabbed her daggers and put them in their usual spot, under her pillow.


	5. Chapter 5

**Amaranthine, countryside**

Delia slipped out early one morning a few days later and saddled a horse. She rode out to Ser Timothy's estate, hiding her horse in a thick stand of trees. She hid herself in the tall grasses beside the road leading to the his house. She armed herself with the darkspawn short bow and a quiver of darkspawn arrows. It wasn't long before she heard a horse cantering down the road. She carefully peeked up from the grasses. It was him. Wolf had been accurate about his morning ride. Hopefully he was also accurate about his involvement with the conspiracy.

She waited until he had just passed her location then she quietly stood and drew. She released the string and the arrow hummed, slicing the air like a falcon diving on it's prey. The arrow hit him squarely in the middle of his back. The horse, feeling something amiss, reared up and Ser Timothy tumbled to the ground. She drew a dagger and went to check that he was truly dead. She knelt over him and felt for a pulse. There was none.

"Bravo," a deep voice said from behind her. "I was having my doubts about you, but perhaps you do still have it."

"Wolf!" she growled, turning slowly toward him. Her fingers itched on the dagger. "Are you spying on me now?" She strode purposefully toward her horse.

"Accidentally actually. I was in the area and saw you ride by, so I followed you. I wanted to make sure my partner wasn't getting in over her head. You never even noticed you were being followed?" He followed behind her closely.

_Again with the critique! _she thought. She shot him a glare but didn't answer.

"Your carelessness is going to cost you someday, my dear," he said.

"And your tongue is going to cost you, today!" she hissed.

She stopped suddenly and spun, launching herself into a flying kick to his chest. It was worth it to see his eyes open wide and hear his breath being expelled forcefully. He fell backwards, flat on his back. Neria leapt on him, straddling his chest, her daggers drawn.

"It would seem you're still the alpha wolf," he said.

"Or just one dangerous bitch," she said. She put her daggers back in their sheaths. One half of her mouth twisted up in a sly smile, and she bent to close the distance to his face. She pressed her lips against his. "I didn't hurt you did I?" she asked, mumbling against his lips.

"I'm recovering already," his hand snaked around the back of her head and he twined his fingers into hair, tugging at her scalp. He opened his lips under hers and his tongue gently stroked her bottom lip. He sucked on her bottom lip and bit it gently.

Delia shivered as a bolt of pleasure lanced through her middle. _It has been so long!_ she thought. _Perhaps my maidenhead grew back._ She put her hands behind Wolf's head, as if to press his head against her harder. But her fingers found the knot of the black kerchief he used to hide the top part of his head. She gently began to coax the knot loose.

"Oh no," he said grabbing her hands with his own. "None of that, now."

Her eyebrows crashed again with irritation. "I want to see you," she said.

"I think that wouldn't be wise. You are, after all, the law in these parts. What's to prevent you from hanging me?" he asked.

She snickered. "Oh I don't know. Maybe the fact you know rather a lot about me and my colorful past. Enough to have me hanged in Denerim. And you did just witness me murdering a minor noble."

"Nobody would believe me if I told them the Hero of Ferelden was a thief and assassin."

"I suppose you have a point there," she sighed. She got up and dusted off her pants. "There is a dead man in the middle of the road and his horse has probably returned to the stable. We might want to leave the area."

Wolf got up. "Right." He paused a moment, looking at her. "I'll have another name for you soon."

She walked to her horse and mounted, taking one more glance at him, she rode off.

"Eat something," he called after her.

She turned in her saddle and made an obscene gesture at him.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Vigil**

Delia started wearing an old cotton shirt to bed, one of Zevran's that he had been about to throw away. She liked how soft it was, and that it smelled like him, at least until she washed it. It was badly worn, ripped and repaired many times, but it was about the only thing she could tolerate sleeping in. She just didn't want to sleep in the nude while Wolf was likely to be visiting her in the middle of the night.

She had difficulty sleeping that night. Her blood felt fizzy, like champagne. It disturbed her to think of him. Some guy puts on a mask and plays at being mysterious and she goes all gooey inside. It was disgusting. Yet, what she saw of him was intriguing. He had a strong, wide jaw and rather dark skin. If she were to guess, she thought he might be Rivaini, although she detected no accent. Maybe removing the mask would free her from this... whatever it was.

She tossed and turned for awhile then decided to go sit on the sofa, by the fire. She thought about Zevran and wondered what he was doing. He had wanted her to come with him to Antiva. _We'll take over the Crows, amora. _He whispered his plans into her ear whenever they laid down together at night. She had been tempted, Maker knew she was an unfit Grey Warden, perhaps she should just give in to her nature and become an assassin. But she had ultimately decided to stay in Ferelden.

She reviewed the decision constantly for months, thinking about hopping onto a ship and surprising Zevran. But with her luck, she'd probably find him in screwing someone new and she didn't like to share. So, to cement the permanence of their ended relationship, she slept with someone new. Then there was a string of lovers after that one. And booze, lots of booze.

Finally, after hearing about her through the rumor mill, Alistair went out looking for her. He found her drunk in some shady tavern, about to start a fight. His guards cleared out the bar and they escorted her back to palace, not precisely willingly.

He locked her in a room for days, until she stopped yelling and threatening him. Then he had her bathed and fed, and they talked. He reminded her that she was _the Hero of Ferelden, _and his friend, and, of course, a fucking Grey Warden. That made her yell even more and they spent two entire days yelling at each other, until she realized he was probably right. She should stop the drinking and carousing. She had decided not to go to Antiva, so she needed to make a life for herself here. Doing what? She had no idea.

She spent several weeks moping around the palace, looking for something meaningful to do, when the First Warden's letter arrived. Alistair brought it to her with a grin on his face, hoping it would ignite something within her.

"Oh boy," she said tonelessly, "I'm sure he has no idea what a huge mistake he's making."

"Don't be silly, Delia, you'll be a great Commander," he lied.

"I guess I did put an idiot on the throne," she replied. "I'm sure the Maker will have some special punishment for me for that." She meant it.

Alistair actually laughed at her jab. He was getting rid of her, he could afford to be generous and overlook her barbed comments. He directed the servants to get her packed and ready to go to Amaranthine. Delia thought he could at least try to look a little sad about her leaving. Oh, who the hell was she kidding? She'd worn out her welcome long ago.

Her depression only lifted when she had seen darkspawn had overrun the Vigil. Killing darkspawn was something she could definitely do. It invigorated her. She felt alive again for the first time in months. However, as much as the sport of slaying darkspawn invigorated her, the duty of being in charge of the Arling sapped her.

She grew very attached to Varel, wanting him to take over as much of the duties as he possibly could. She eventually confided to him that she was vastly unsuited to the task. He assured her that she could concentrate on darkspawn, he would handle almost everything else. He did too. She weighed in from time to time, but most of the decisions were his.

So it was bearable, perhaps, at times, enjoyable. There was no lack of entertainment for her senses, with the array of attractive men under her command. That she had, so far, not bedded any of them was testimony to either how much she had changed since her extended debauchery in Denerim, or that she was too busy and too tired. She feared it was the latter, however. Maybe this was how it was for Duncan and Riordan too. Perhaps they had been too busy to indulge in their baser desires, and then, eventually, too old to want to. Was that was the secret to being respectable? Being old and tired, more in need of a nap than a good hard frigging?

She laid her head on the arm of the sofa and watched the fire flicker until her mind finally stalled and she fell asleep.

...

Wolf found her on the sofa this time, her neck at an uncomfortable angle, sound asleep. The fire had died out and the room was chilly. He decided to move her to the bed. He might suffer a severe beating for it if she awoke, but he knew she'd be cold and her neck would be stiff when she awoke. Besides, it was an excuse to hold her, however briefly.

He marveled again at how deeply she slept, she never stirred as he slipped his hands beneath her small body and scooped her up. He felt her bones poking him through the thin fabric of the shirt. The girl - no, woman, he corrected himself - was way too scrawny. He was almost ready to believe her hardship story.

As he carried her to her bed her face rolled into his neck and her warm breath tickled his neck. He put her down on the bed, checking that her daggers were under the pillow. They were... fat lot of good they would have done her while she was sleeping on the sofa. He pulled her covers up. He wouldn't wake her, she looked exhausted. He noted the deepening circles under her eyes. He did bend over her and pressed his lips just barely against hers.

_Maker, she was lovely. _He wondered what her life was like. He wanted to know who she was, outside of what the stories said, but their interactions had been few and brief. Well, perhaps that would change.

He pulled something out of his pocket and put it on her desk, then used her quill and wrote out a note. He signed it with a flourish and stuck it under the object from his pocket. He left the way he came in.

...

The sunlight flooded through her window. She must have slept late. She sat up in bed and stretched.

_Bed? _

She looked around the room, distinctly remembering having fallen asleep on the sofa. She had no memory getting up in the night.

_Sleepwalking?_

She shrugged and just hoped if she was becoming a somnambulist that she confined it to her room and not wander the Vigil in the nude. She got out of bed and scurried to her armoire, pulling out clothes quickly. The room was chilly. She was about to dump them on the bed when something caught her eye. There was a small box on her desk she didn't recall seeing before. She set down her leathers and ignored the chill. She picked up the box and saw the note underneath.

_You looked too tired to wake, last night._

_Names:  
Ser Guy - He visits his mistress in Amaranthine every Thursday night.  
Lady Liza Packton - Fond of Antivan wine  
Bann Esmerelle - We need to discuss this one._

_Meet me in the apple orchard at sunset to discuss Bann Esmerelle._

_Eat something._

_Wolf_

Delia unfolded the top of the parchment box and looked inside. There was a large, beautiful confection inside. It made her mouth water. It was studded with almonds, dates and caramel. She picked it up and bit into it. Marzipan too. It was marvelous. After she swallowed she wondered how wise she was. It could be poisoned. She laughed at herself. Wolf had had ample opportunity to kill her, including, apparently, last night.

Had he put her into bed? She mulled it over. He was a strange man. She felt the fizz start up in her blood again. It was a little like having a guardian spirit watching over her. One that was an irritating nag at times. She wondered again who he was and what his story could be. How did he know so much about her being the Dark Wolf? What was under the mask?

The last of the confection went into her mouth and she licked her fingers off. She got dressed quickly and bounded down the stairs. The other Wardens were already up and eating. She joined them and ate a very hearty breakfast, remembering Wolf's admonition.

After breakfast Varel cornered her and asked about the conspiracy.

"Did you ever find the Dark Wolf?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes, he's helping me with the problem. We've identified a few of the conspirators and they're... being taken care of."

Varel pursed his lips and looked at her. "Be careful, Commander, you can't afford to be implicated in this."

Delia nodded. "I'm not entirely inexperienced in this area, Varel."

"Word is, Ser Timothy was ambushed by darkspawn a few days back."

"Imagine that. Such a tragic end. Could you be sure to send condolences to his wife?"

"Of course, Commander." She thought there was a little twinkle in his eye. "Do you think there will be other darkspawn attacks?"

"Oh, undoubtedly. And other tragedies too. Life is unpredictable. I hope you have plenty of stationary and ink."

"How much stationary should I have?" he asked, obliquely.

"I'm uncertain as yet, perhaps ten pieces."

Varel nodded. "Very well. I'll be sure to have it on hand." He walked off to his study.

Delia smiled at his retreating back. Varel understood her perhaps better than she had imagined.


	7. Chapter 7

**Note: **_I definitely see this guy as Antonio Banderas in The Legend of Zorro. :)  
_

_..._

Delia stared into her armoire wondering what to wear. It had been on her mind all day and now it was nearly time to meet Wolf in the orchard. She could wear her armor, of course, but... She snorted with frustration. _Am I really thinking of wearing a dress? _she asked herself in disbelief. She could just hear Wolf chiding her over that, so she wouldn't give him the opportunity. She slammed the armoire shut and stood in front of the mirror instead. Her hair was plaited in a single braid, as it normally was. She released the binding and combed out her black hair. It fell nearly to her waist and the braid had left it wavy. She hoped no one saw her, she never wore her hair unbraided, they would certainly be curious. A cloak would solve that. She pulled a cloak out of the armoire and put it on, pulling the hood over her hair.

She went down the stairs, into the Great Hall. Varel saw her heading for the front door.

"Aren't you having dinner, Commander?" he asked.

"Um, no. Not tonight. I'm going for a... walk," she dissembled.

"Is that wise, with the darkspawn hunting Grey Wardens?"

She sidled up to Varel, deciding to trust him. "Actually, I'm meeting your friend. We need to chat," she spoke in a low voice to him.

Varel looked puzzled. "My friend?"

"The Dark Wolf."

"Oh! He's not actually a friend, just someone I had heard about. You need to be careful, Commander. I wouldn't trust him."

Delia shrugged. "He seems to be okay. He hated the Arl Howe and the nobles aligned with him, so I think we're working off the same page. Besides, if he wanted to do me harm he's had plenty of opportunity."

Varel cocked his head looking at her curiously.

Delia saw the implied question but chose to ignore it. She nodded to Varel and left.

She walked out of the keep and followed the road a ways. She waited until the shadows grew heavy, then stepped into a clump of trees and waited. She wanted to make sure she wasn't being followed. It would irritate her no end to hear Wolf gloating that he had followed her. She listened carefully for awhile. Glad she was that she did, she heard a stealthy footstep. A small smile played on her lips. She would turn the tables on him tonight. As the figure passed her spot, she stepped out.

"Looking for me?" she said insouciantly, unable to keep the gloating out of her voice.

Wolf turned quickly and launched himself at her. When he was nearly on her she saw it wasn't him. She barely had time to get out of the way. She heard her cloak tearing as a dagger cut into where she had just been standing. _Thank the Maker I didn't wear a dress,_ she thought. She quickly drew her daggers and reacted just in time to parry another attack. Her attacker was quick and well-trained. He reminded her of Zevran, only he wasn't quite as good. She parried and counter-attacked his next thrust and she cut his arm. It wasn't disabling but he would feel it.

The cloak was hampering her. She wanted it off, but she didn't have time to remove it. After the next attack, she didn't want to remove it. It was visually confusing her attacker. He got one of his daggers stuck in the loose fabric for a moment, it was all she needed to strike the bundle of nerves on his wrist with the pommel of her dagger. His hand released the dagger, as she knew it would. Another crow trick Zevran had taught her. She kicked the dagger away and closed on the retreating assassin. It was getting darker but she thought she saw fear in his face. He parried her next attack and suddenly his hand holding the dagger was empty. She hadn't seen him switching hands. His other hand lashed out and she only managed to spin away before he plunged it into her chest. Instead it left a shallow cut on her arm.

Her assailant was momentarily off-balance, it shouldn't have been a problem normally, usually fighters pay little attention to their opponents feet and legs, but Delia's mother had been a stickler about this. Women were lighter and weaker, they had to use their brains. So Delia knew a well-aimed kick would take him down. She swept her foot to the inside of his knee and his leg crumbled. She was on him in a moment, delivering a final slash to his neck. She ducked out of the way before she was splattered with blood. She rested a moment to catch her breath, then she dragged his body off the road into the trees. It wouldn't do to advertise his failure too quickly.

She picked up his daggers and recognized them immediately. _Crow daggers._ So the Crows were after her again. She was going to have to be more careful. As much as she hated to admit it, Wolf was right. She had been lax and making herself an easy target. She stuck to the shadows and made her way, slowly and carefully, to the apple orchard.

He was pacing, under a tree. She moved carefully, making certain it really was him. The sun had already set while she was dragging the dead Crow into the woods. Now the last of the vibrant sunset was fading from the sky. She stepped out from behind a tree when she was convinced it was truly him.

"You're late," he said. He stopped in his tracks and stared at her a moment. Then he crossed the ground separating them and pulled her to him, setting his mouth on hers. His prior gentle kisses had been replaced by a fierceness this time. His hands grasped her upper arms and he pulled her into him. She hissed and pulled away, covering the cut on her arm protectively with her hand.

"You're bleeding," he said. "What happened?" he asked, pulling her hand away so he could see.

"I was attacked on the way here... sort of."

"Sort of?" he asked. "Explain. I'll bandage it up." He rummaged through his pack, looking for his supplies.

"Actually, it's rather amusing. I thought it was you following me. So hid and then was going to confront you. Only, it turned out not to be you." She paused, watching him unlace her leather sleeve and pull it off to get to the wound.

"Who was it?" he asked.

"An assassin, unfortunately. A Crow assassin."

"An Antivan Crow? Are you sure?"

"Yes. He certainly moved like one and he was wielding a pair of Crow daggers. I've... run into Crows before."

"I've heard. Your Antivan paramour. The other half of the Dark Wolf."

Delia sucked in her breath with surprise. "How do you know that?"

Wolf chuckled. "Slim is a good friend and we sometimes shared information. Still do in fact." He poured something over the cut and she hissed again.

"Stings," she complained.

"I bet. You should see a healer, that's going to leave a scar." He wound some strips of clean fabric around it. "Better?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Now do you understand why I've been telling you to be more cautious?"

She nodded. "I will be. It's not like I have anything else to do," she said glumly. Suddenly her frustration exploded. "_Maker's fucking breath!_ There's something going on with the darkspawn. We're scrambling trying to figure it out. The Keep is still weakened from the attack. Voldrick needs stone and money to rebuild it. Wade needs ore. The farmers need troops, the city needs troops, the trade route needs troops! And now this?"

She kicked at the ground with the toe of her boot. "I'm sorry," she said, "this isn't any of your concern. I shouldn't..."

"No," he said, "I was actually curious. I wondered what you do. The only time I see you, you're usually very deeply asleep, looking utterly worn out."

She gave a half-chuckle. "Well, that would be why. We're too few. The darkspawn killed all the Orlesean Wardens."

"Did you eat?" he asked.

"What's with you and eating?" she asked. "Am I really that skinny?"

"Just answer my question," he said, knowing better than to answer hers.

"No, I didn't have time."

"I thought not," he took her hand and guided her further into the orchard. In a clearing she saw something dark on the grass, but the moon wasn't up yet and it was too dark to see.

"What is it?"

"Dinner."

"A picnic?" she laughed. "In the dark?"

Wolf bent over and fumbled with something, a lantern flared and illuminated the scene. It looked delicious. There was a roasted chicken, bottles of wine, bread, butter and honey.

Delia groaned, suddenly realizing how hungry she was. "That looks really good."

"Let's eat then," he gestured for her to sit and he sat beside her. She looked around for the plates, napkins and utensils. "I forgot the plates," he confessed, "and well, everything except the food."

She laughed. "Planning isn't your strong suit, is it?" She reached over and ripped a leg and a thigh off the roasted chicken. "Fingers still work and I'm not too good to use them."

He followed suit and ripped off the other leg and thigh. "Well, actually, it is. I planned all those jobs for you in Denerim, you know. They worked out rather well, didn't they?"

Delia looked at him while she bit a large chunk of chicken. She chewed and swallowed quickly. "You did? I thought Slim did. They worked out. Mostly. That one didn't."

Wolf watched her eat. She was eating like a young wolf, ripping into her food with gusto. She must really be starving. "We were set up. I still feel bad about that. You and your... friend were lucky to get out of that."

Delia reached over and pulled a large chunk off the loaf of bread and poured some honey on it. She devoured it in a flash.

Wolf watched her in amazement. "You do have a healthy appetite, when you get around to eating."

She tried to say something but her mouth was full, so she concentrated on chewing for a moment. "Yes. It's a Grey Warden thing. We have enormous appetites."

Wolf cocked his head, looking at her curiously. "Why is that?"

"Oh well, part of a secret ritual we go through leaves us... changed in various ways, good and bad. The appetite is one of the side-effects. Being able to sense darkspawn is another."

"A secret ritual? I hadn't heard about that. What does it involve?" he pressed.

"It'd hardly be secret if I told you," she taunted him. "You can't have all the secrets, you know."

"We could trade secrets," he suggested.

"We could, however there are some Grey Warden secrets I really can't tell."

"Fair enough, there are some I can't tell either. You go first, ask me a question." He opened a bottle of wine and handed it to her. "No glasses, sorry."

She laughed and raised the bottle in a silent toast, then took a few gulps. She passed it back and he followed suit.

"Where are you from?" she asked.

"Originally, Rivaini. But I came here as a baby, so I consider myself Ferelden. My turn." He thought for a moment. "I know you're from the Alienage in Denerim, but how did you end up a Grey Warden?"

Delia finished chewing another mouthful and swallowed. "A long story but I killed the Arl of Denerim's son and they were about to cart me off when I was recruited."

Wolf stared at her, his mouth open. "You killed Bann Vaughan? Why?"

"I'll answer, but I get two questions!" She waited for Wolf to nod. "He kidnapped a bunch of elven women on their... our... wedding day for his amusement. My cousin and I managed to free the others, well, the ones they didn't kill." Delia's face shone with pure hatred at the memory. "I told the guards it was me that killed everyone and they were about to march me off when the Warden-Commander recruited me on the spot."

"I take it you didn't get married then?" he asked.

"That's three now. No, my fiance was killed trying to rescue us." She sighed. "I feel bad, he seemed like a nice enough guy. I just met him that day, but I really didn't want to get married." She picked up the wine and tried to chase away the bad memory with another gulp.

"Okay, your turn," he said. He ripped the remainder of the chicken in half and offered it to Delia. She took it and thanked him.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Hm... I suppose I can trust you. If you were going to have me arrested you already would have done it."

"I don't know, you're still useful to me. Maybe I'm just waiting until we have this conspiracy business wrapped up." She grinned at him slyly.

"And you'd tell me that?" He looked confused.

"I'm not going to arrest you. I was just teasing."

"Why not then?" he asked.

"Wait, I'm losing track of the questions, I think you owe me a bunch now," she complained.

"Oh forget that for now, why wouldn't you arrest me? Isn't it your duty as the Arlessa?"

"Oh please! My duty to protect a bunch of wealthy lords and banns, who suck their wealth out of the peasants they rule over, from someone relieving them of the burden of that ill-gotten gain? They're a bunch of parasites. If I weren't stuck with this job, I'd probably be doing exactly what you're doing."

Wolf smiled at her. He would have kissed her, but they were both smeared with chicken grease.

"Well, then, I am convinced. I am Melchor d'Alboquerque." He gave a little half-bow. "At your service, my lady."

Delia suppressed a giggle. "Melchor?"

"Now you know why I prefer to go by Wolf."

"Maker, yes. I don't blame you now for stealing the name. You are welcome to it."

"Thank you. But anyway, my parents were nobles in Rivaini but my father's rivals came into power and they fled the country with very little of their wealth. Enough that they were able to set up as merchants in Ferelden and see I had a good education."

"Don't they object to their son robbing nobles?" she asked.

"They would, of course, but unfortunately they perished very early during the blight and everything we owned with it. I joined Loghain's army."

"Were you at Ostagar?" she asked.

He nodded. "Once I expressed my opinion of Loghain's retreat a little too loudly and some of Bann Esmerelle's men had me arrested. Eventually I ended up in Howe's dungeon, in Amaranthine. I escaped and I've been robbing nobles ever since."

Delia finally finished eating and looked around for something to wipe her hands on.

"There's a stream not far away," he stood up and pointed in the direction. They both went to the stream and washed off the chicken grease, then they went back to the blanket. He sat down and she sat very close to him, facing him.

"Since I know who you are now," she said, her hands moving to the back of his head, "is there any reason to wear this now?"

"Only to protect you from my terrifying visage," he replied, his head closing the distance to hers.

She worked at the knot while his lips closed over hers. She sighed involuntarily and opened her mouth to his probing tongue. When the knot was finally undone she pulled away and broke off the kiss. She studied him, her mouth going a little dry. He was gorgeous. His hair, a little squished from the mask, was thick and fell in soft black waves to his shoulders. His eyes were dark pools. They were so expressive, punctuated by heavy black eyebrows. His nose was more powerful than perfect, but in her book that was perfection. There was just a little hump in the middle and it made him look a bit hawkish.

"Should I put it back on?" he asked.

"Maker, no! Burn this thing."

He laughed. "I can't Delia. There are some who would recognize Melchor d'Alboquerque as the escapee from Howe's prison. I have no intention of going back."

"Howe is dead," she protested.

"But Bann Esmerelle is not."

"Well, not yet. Wasn't this meeting supposed to be about her?" she reminded him. She shivered with the night growing chillier.

Wolf pulled her to him, so her back was against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. "I'll keep you warm." He kissed the point of her ear.

"Bann Esmerelle is the leader of the conspiracy. I had been planning to rob her estate, that was why I wanted your help initially. When I found out she was in on the conspiracy, I thought we could combine our efforts and rob her and eliminate her."

"We can do that," she said.

"But now you've told me how insanely busy you are, I don't want to burden you with this. I'll handle it."

"Nonsense, we had a deal. Besides, it would be fun to be the Dark Wolf again."

"I don't know," he said, "you seem so tired all the time. You should get more rest."

"I'll rest when I'm dead. Right now, I want to do this with you. It will be amusing and I could use amusement more than rest."

"Perhaps you can have both. Will you be at the Keep tomorrow night?"

"I believe so. We have some matters to take care of but they shouldn't keep us away overnight."

"Then go back to the Keep now and go right to bed. Tomorrow night we can handle the Bann."

"Why don't you come with me?" she asked, turning her head to look at him.

"That would fall under the category of amusement and tonight is for rest. Just sleep in a different room tonight. I don't want any Crows to interrupt your dreams."

She sighed heavily. "When she's dead, can you stop hiding?"

"Yes. Then I can court you openly. Until then, mi corazón, you should not be seen with me."

Delia's heart skipped a beat at the term of affection. There was just the slightest hint of accent when he spoke. She twisted at the waist and pulled his mouth to hers. Her hands went through his dark hair and she growled slightly as he kissed her.

"Hm, what is it, wolfing?" he asked her, stroking her hair.

"I want you," she complained.

"Rest tonight." He disentangled himself from her and stood. He helped her up and kissed her hand. "Go."

She walked away. Something about him dissolved her rebellious streak. She turned to look one last time. He was watching her, standing as straight as a sword. She felt like a silly girl falling in love, but for once she didn't mind.


	8. Chapter 8

Delia did rest, eventually. But the image of Wolf was burning hot in her mind when she got back to the Keep. The memory of his kisses and caresses were stoking the fires in her middle. She stripped off her leathers and threw herself on her bed, meaning to switch rooms but not until... This simply wasn't going to wait any longer! She burrowed under the covers and humped her hand wildly to thoughts of him. It wasn't exactly an unusual activity for her recently, but the strength of the release that rocked her was.

She waited for her heart to stop thundering and the tingling in her feet to abate. When it finally did, she got out of bed and put on a robe. She lumped up some pillows in her bed, to make it look like she was sleeping there, then she went to find an unused spare bedroom without a balcony or a large window. Eventually she found one that looked almost like a cell. The one small window it had was barred. There was a sturdy bolt on the door as well. She curled up in the bed and went to sleep quickly.

It was to a commotion she awoke in the morning. She heard someone yelling, and loud male voices. She drew her robe on and took up her daggers and opened the door slowly. Her fellow Grey Wardens were standing before her normal bedroom door looking in. She stepped quietly behind them.

Anders discovered the pillows she'd left in her place. "Thank the Maker, she wasn't in her bed." He stepped away from the bed and she understood his relief as she saw the bed. It had been peppered with crossbow bolts.

"Then that leaves the question of where she is," Nathaniel said. Varel nodded, a look of concern settling into his face.

"Right behind you, actually," Delia said.

"Is there something you should tell us, Commander?" Anders joined them in the hallway. "Like why you didn't sleep in your room and why it looks like someone is trying to kill you?"

Delia shrugged. "It looks like you've figured it out. Someone is trying to kill me and that's why I didn't sleep in my room." She suddenly remembered her arm. "Oh! That reminds me, could you heal this cut on my arm?" She pushed the robe off her shoulder to show Anders, who gulped at seeing so much of his Commander exposed. "Nowish?" she suggested when he hesitated.

"And how did you get that?" Nathaniel asked.

"An assassin attacked me last night."

"What?" Anders said, "So the bed full of arrows wasn't the first time?" He unwrapped the bandage from her arm and looked at the wound. It wasn't deep, he could erase it. His hand glowed blue for a moment and it disappeared.

She shook her head. "Thanks, Anders. No, I was out for a walk last night and one followed me."

Anders looked puzzled. "Who hired the assassin, darkspawn?"

"Darkspawn?" she said, laughing.

"Well, they're talking now, perhaps they're also doing financial transactions," Anders suggested.

Nathaniel, serious as always, didn't find it funny. "If someone is trying to kill you then you need to have a guard at all times."

Delia shook her head. "We don't have soldiers to spare and the problem is being handled. I think in a few days this will be resolved."

Varel made a dissenting noise. "Nathaniel is right. This is much more serious than we thought. You shouldn't be going out alone, and we'll be increasing the guard on the Vigil."

"The Crows won't have any issues taking out a few guards," she said, "and we can't afford to lose them." She was concerned about getting out of the Keep herself. It wouldn't do for people to know she was going to knock off Bann Esmerelle.

Nathaniel's jaw set stubbornly. "Then we will guard you."

Delia groaned to herself. _Why does life have to be so complicated?_

"Well, actually, we have a few things to do today, so you all will be with me and if the Crows attack, we'll deal with them."

"Crows, eh?" Oghren said.

"Yes, unfortunately," she said.

"Do you think your old, heh, _friend_...", Oghren laughed his _I-know-a-dirty-secret _laugh, "is part of it?" Oghren asked.

Delia made a throat-cutting motion and vigorous head shake at Oghren, trying to get him to drop the subject, but she stopped her frantic gestures when all eyes swiveled onto her. She smiled gamely and scratched her neck nonchalantly.

"Hm," Nathaniel hummed suspiciously.

"Old _friend_?" Anders queried. "This sounds like an interesting story."

"Perhaps," Delia said sternly, "but one that won't be told today."

The look Oghren shot Anders said otherwise.

"Well, come on now," Delia said, brusquely. "No use dawdling about. We have a damsel to rescue from kidnappers, and we need to find that botanist friend of Wynne's." She went back into her old room and collected some clothes and dumped them in her new... _cell. _As she shut the door, she saw Anders put an arm around Oghren.

"So, my friend, do tell what you know." Anders said.

"This will cost you..." Oghren replied gruffly.

Delia shut the door, realizing her former romance would shortly be common knowledge. She sighed. _Oh well, does it really matter? No._ She dressed quickly in her leathers and went downstairs for a quick breakfast. Varel was waiting for her.

"We need to have a session of court today," he reminded her.

"Oh blast," she grumbled. "We've got so much to do."

"I'd handle it myself but I thought you might want to be there for the first one. It's a good time to set a tone for your rule."

"Rule? That sounds odd," she said.

"Well, you are the one who decides on civil and criminal matters for the Arling."

"Oh, Maker," she swore. "Someone has a strange sense of humor putting me in charge here."

Varel looked at her curiously. "You don't have to tell me why, of course, but you can count on my discretion should you choose to."

She looked at the man, his loyalty seemed absolute. He was almost fatherly to her at times, yet respectfully so. She wanted so badly to trust him.

"I'm just usually the one being judged. And I'm not exactly fond of nobles," she admitted. "They often thought the Alienage was their private playground."

Varel nodded.

"I'm not going to be coddling them... just warning you."

He shrugged. "Perhaps that is what they need. Although it might draw more sympathizers to the conspiracy."

"Be that as it may, they're not going to do here what they did in Denerim and get away with it."

"I respect you for that, Commander. Shall we get started after breakfast?"

"Yes, might as well get it over with," she said, sighing.

...

She, Varel, and Captain Garevel heard the cases presented to them. She sought out their opinions but decided easily on her own. Ser Temmerly would pay with his life for murdering Ser Tamra. Delia felt a moment of vindication when the arrogant noble was dragged away to be executed. He howled about how his twice-blessed noble blood would be upon her common, knife-eared hands, as if that made sense. Lady Liza Packton, a sycophant of Howe's, claimed he had granted her land. Delia mused over it awhile but had no intention of rewarding a noble for toadying up to Howe. She denied her claim and Ser Derren, who objected to Howe's policies, was able to keep his land. She went easy on the commoners with minor transgressions.

Varel spoke to her again when it was over. "Well done. I think that sets a tone for the nobles that you're not going to put up with their nonsense and look the other way while they commit crimes."

"It also didn't make me any friends, I suppose."

Varel smiled. "Other than Ser Derren, probably not."

She left the rest of the Keep's business with Varel and took her Wardens to rescue Eileen Bensely, some minor noble's daughter, from kidnappers. It went well. Delia managed to scare off some of the thugs and they killed the rest. The weeping Eileen was returned home alive. It was a good thing, Delia thought. She probably needed to keep at least some of the nobles happy.

Delia wanted to get back to the Keep well before dusk so that she could eat dinner and plan on how to get free of the guard watching her. She turned them around early, long before she had completed everything she had planned for them to do. The court session had taken a substantial chunk out of her day she hadn't planned on. Their trip back was entirely uneventful.

When she got back to the Keep a message was awaiting her. She broke the seal, one she didn't recognize and read it.

_ Meet me by the stables after dark.  
-W_

So there it was. All she had to do was leave the Keep unnoticed, and they weren't making that easy for her.

She ate an early dinner, shoveling the food in quickly. She was starting to feel the adrenaline rush she used to feel. She told Varel she wasn't feeling well and she was going to lay down.

Varel looked alarmed. "Commander, I should call the medic. Could you have been poisoned?"

Delia shook her head. She knew how to get him to back off... "Just female complaints, nothing to worry about."

Varel nodded, blushing slightly.

_That always works! _Delia congratulated herself.

She went to her room and got her old leathers. The form fitting black ones. They were lighter and more supple than the ones she wore normally and were much better for stealth work. She stashed her bow, quiver and climbing gear behind a cabinet in the garderobe. There was a small window in the garderobe, large enough for her to crawl out of but too small for most men. She went back to her room and rested until the sun went down.

Then it was time to leave. She opened her door just enough to see there was a guard in the hallway. _Shit!_ she thought. She pulled on her robe over her leathers and opened the door. The guard turned to see her and she nodded to him.

"Commander," he saluted her.

"At ease, soldier," she told him, turning to go to the garderobe. She really hoped he wasn't going to follow her and when he didn't she breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully he wouldn't pay attention to the fact she didn't return from the loo. She didn't latch the door to the loo. Having it locked would definitely draw notice eventually. She took off her robe and stuffed it behind the cabinet and took her weapons and gear. She poked her head out the window, looking to see where she might be spotted. It looked like she wouldn't be seen from the battlements, but there was guard patrolling on the ground below. She'd have to time her descent to when he'd gone around the corner, and it'd have to be a fast descent at that.

She got her hook set and was ready to start wedging herself out of the window when the door to the garderobe opened and Varel stepped inside. He stopped, looking at her in shock for a moment, almost as if he'd caught her using the toilet. She looked back at him, wondering how she was going to explain.

"Maker's breath, Commander..." he started to say.

"I can explain," she said quietly. "There's an issue relating to the conspiracy that I'm handling tonight. That's probably as much as I should tell you."

"Have you been handling this yourself? I thought you hired the Dark Wolf?"

"I did, but we've been working together. Tonight should wrap up a big portion of the problem. Although the Crows will continue to come until they're all dead."

"Commander, this is exceedingly dangerous and threatens everything the Grey Wardens have worked for here," Varel looked very stern.

"As does a successful assassination plot," she said.

"What if you're caught?"

"I can only assure you that I'm not inexperienced in this sort of thing."

"Why don't you let the Dark Wolf handle it?" he said, frowning.

"I am the Dark Wolf, or was," she admitted.

"You?" he looked at her in amazement.

"I told you I had an interesting past. In Denerim, at least. Someone else took on the title and that's who I'm working with. I never thought I'd admit this, but he is worthy of the name."

"Maker, Commander, I don't approve one bit but I won't stop you."

"Then will you cover for me? The guard in the hall might wonder why I didn't return."

Varel sighed. "Against my better judgment, yes, I'll cover for you."

"Thank you," she smiled reassuringly at Varel but she didn't think it worked. "Just stay here until I'm down. Maybe latch the door so no one else walks in."

Delia watched for the guard on the ground again and when he rounded the corner she quickly wedged herself out the window and swiftly rappelled down the wall. Her descent was terrifyingly fast, but she didn't have much time before the patrol came back. She saw Varel peek out the window. He tossed the hook and rope down to her. She waved briefly and found some deep shadow to hide in.

He waited, watching the shadows for any further sign of her. It was as if she had disappeared. He shook his head. _The Commander is insane_, he thought. He left the garderobe and told the guard he had checked on the Commander and everything was fine. Then he went to his study to drink and worry over what he was going to do if she was caught.


	9. Chapter 9

**Denerim, Blight**

_This time, Slim assured them, the information was good. "You'll steal the tears of Andraste", he had told them in hushed reverent tones, "from the grandson of the man who stole them from the Chantry."_

_Personally, Delia didn't understand why the secretions of a long, dead woman were so worthwhile, but embarrassing the Bann sounded like a fine thing to do. She and Zevran talked it over and decided to do it. Zevran felt much the same as her, an opinion he expressed openly when they got the woman's ashes months earlier._

_"If we keep this up, we'll be able to reassemble her," Zevran said._

_Delia had laughed at his comment. "Good, I'd like to ask her a few questions."_

_This time their burglary went down without a hitch. Not a drop of blood was shed. They easily avoided the traps, they knocked out guards and slipped through shadows to make their escape. It was almost anti-climatic...until Zevran had a perverse notion._

_They were back at Arl Eamon's estate and had slipped back into their room, unnoticed by their companions. Even though the heist had been easy there was still a little adrenaline racing through her body. Zevran must have been feeling the same post-job exhilaration because as she was starting to take off her armor, getting ready for bed, he lifted her up and dumped her on the bed._

_"Wouldn't it be easier if I undressed first?" she said, giggling._

_He jumped onto the bed and straddled her hips. "I want to unwrap my present myself," he smiled at her, his hands going to the fasteners on her leather chest piece and snapping them open one at a time, with deliberation and a wicked grin on his face. He pulled it off, leaving her in the thin cotton shirt she wore underneath while he worked on her leggings and boots. When he had her down to just the under clothes he discarded his own leather. He rubbed his erection against her. She groaned with the contact._

_"Maker, you're a tease, Zevran," she complained. She moved her hands to the top of his cotton trousers, trying to reach the drawstring, but he pushed her hands away._

_"No, thief, not yet," his eyes gleamed with some particular mischievousness she hadn't ever seen before and his hand rubbed against her cotton enclosed sex. She swore and ground herself against his hand. He laughed and untied her trousers and pulled them off, her smalls coming away with them. She saw something flash in his hand but was distracted when he spread her legs apart and hoisted her knees over her shoulders._

_"Sweet Andraste!", Delia moaned, sinking her hands into his scalp. His tongue teased around her entrance, gradually working towards the tender bit of hooded flesh in the center._

_Zevran laughed again. Some impish mood had seized him tonight. Whatever it was, it didn't distract him from the task at hand. His tongue plunged into her, sending her writhing against his face, while his fingers worked at her pearl. Zevran knew well all the right buttons to push. It wasn't long before she was growling with her impending release. Then suddenly the tongue and fingers were gone. She moaned in disappointment while Zevran shifted momentarily then he was back in place and Delia sighed happily, knowing that sweet release was moments away. His tongue danced around her teasing her again, but not enough... Delia's hands pulled at his hair._

_"Ow!" he complained, batting her hands away. "Greedy minx, behave yourself."_

_"I want...", she tried to say._

_"Shush! You get what you get, when I give it to you. Capito?"_

_"Si," she replied with one of the few Antivan words she knew. She wound her hands in the blankets of the bed to keep them from misbehaving again._

_Zevran made her wait then, to punish her, she thought. Then he started again, she was determined to come before he could tease her more. She gripped the blankets hard, the tendons in her arms standing out with the tension in body. Just as she was teetering again on the edge of release, he surprised her. A cold, smooth, hard presence pressed at her entrance. She looked down in surprise._

_"Fucking Andraste!" she said. "What are you doing?"_

_"Indeed you are!" he laughed again as he slid the vial holding the tears of Andraste inside her. His mouth went back to sucking on her nub while his hand worked the vial in, angling up towards her stomach to hit that spot he knew well. His lips closed around her now in earnest. No more teasing. She knew she shouldn't be enjoying this but, Maker help her, it was amazing. Something about having the most holy relic in the land buried inside her tweaked something within her. She rocked with an intense orgasm, nearly ripping holes in the blankets with her fingernails._

_Zevran pulled the vial out of her and held it before her face. It shimmered with her fluids._

_"Now that is a holy relic," he said with mocking reverence. He got up and placed the vial carefully somewhere to dry. "Do not even think of wiping that off, mi amore, I want to know when it goes to the Chantry tomorrow it has your sweet essence upon it."_

_Delia laughed at him, thinking she'd never be able to see another chantry without thinking about this. "Come here, Zev, there's another holy relic I'm interested in having inside me."_

_It was a pleasant ending to a relatively carefree time. The assassin and the thief had only the faintest inkling that things would be different from then on. _

_**Denerim, post-blight**_

_The archdemon was dead, Delia was lauded as a hero, Alistair was King, and Zevran was bored. He had been trying to change her mind all week with mind-blowing sex. It nearly worked. When he got on the ship bound for Antiva, her face was shimmering with tears as she watched him leave. He expected her to show up in Antiva not long afterward. He paid someone to watch for her. Weeks went by and she didn't come after him. He threw himself into his work and weeks became months. He became Master Arainai and he moved on, moving the memory of her to the pile of treasured things he had lost, like the Dalish gloves._


	10. Chapter 10

**Vigil's Keep**

Wolf paced in the shadows near the stable. Delia was late. He noticed there were a lot more guards around the Keep than before. He hoped nothing had happened to her. When her pale skin resolved out of the shadows he was so on edge he nearly jumped.

"You're late," he said, "I was worried."

"I had to escape. There was another attempt sometime in the night and they insisted on keeping me under guard all the time. It's almost like being in prison."

She wrapped her arms around Wolf's neck, noting he wore the mask again, and pressed her lips against his. His response, hungry and insistent, drove a moan of longing from her. He pushed her against the side of the stable and pressed his large, warm body against hers. That, coupled with the adrenaline of her escape from the Keep, made her want to take him here.

"For luck," he whispered into her ear and kissed her once more.

"For luck," she said.

"Can you get a horse?" he asked.

"Yes, give me a minute."

The stable was dark. No one was in there tonight. She grabbed her favorite mount and her tack and led the mare quietly out to where there was a little more light. She worked on getting the horse ready to go while Wolf rummaged through his pack.

"Here, you should wear this tonight," he held up a mask similar to the one he wore, "in case you're spotted." He put it over the top of her head and tied it in the back. "You look like wickedness personified," he said taking in her form-fitting ebony leather armor.

"I think Varel would agree with you," she said thinking back to his expression.

"Varel? Howe's seneschal?"

"Well, formerly yes. He's my seneschal now. Do you know him?"

Wolf chuckled. "You could say so. We spent some time in Howe's prison together. In fact, we escaped together. I'm glad he's your seneschal, he's a good man."

"Then it sounds like you have a good reason to come to the Keep. You can catch up with Varel," she said.

"I can think of an even better reason to come to the Keep," he said looked at her intently. "But we're wasting time. We have a woman intent on seeing you dead, to kill."

Delia mounted her horse gracefully. "Lead on, Wolf," she told him. He mounted his horse and spurred it to a quick pace and Delia followed behind.

Fortunately Delia had picked up horse riding skills quickly when she came to Amaranthine. Wolf however, was a very good rider. If she were to guess, he'd been riding all his life. He looked so tall and at ease in the saddle.

He turned to look back at her, she was having no problem keeping up. "Can you jump?" he asked.

"I've never tried," she said.

"I'll have to teach you sometime. You ride well." He guided his horse around the fences he would normally have jumped.

They dismounted well before they got to Esmerelle's estate and hid their horses in the woods.

"Here's my plan," Wolf said. "I'd like to do this without any bloodshed, other than the Bann's, of course. There are plenty of guards around the perimeter so we're going to need to be careful. The library on the second floor is not far from her room. It's easy to access and the Bann isn't much of a reader."

Delia nodded. "Can we make this look like an accident or a suicide?"

"That part we'll have to play by ear. I'm looking for something she stole from me when I was thrown into her dungeon."

They avoided the guards on the perimeter by keeping to the shadows. From where they stood below the library looked dark. Wolf threw his grappling hook and it caught securely in the wrought iron on the balcony. He sent Delia up first and followed after she got to the top. She already had the lock picked when he reached the top. He smiled at her, appreciating her competency. She opened the door slowly. The library was very dark. There were no light sources inside the library other than what little came in through the balcony door and the open door to the hallway.

"I think we'll be able to hear the Bann going into her bedroom from here. The door is just across the hall," he whispered. He peeked out of the ajar library door. Her bedroom was dark. They waited inside the library, just behind a tall shelf full of books. Who knew how long they'd have to wait? Delia was just beginning to feel fidgety when Wolf's hand grasped hers. He pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed it. It was too dark to see much, just the glittering of his eyes looking into hers. She felt his hand slide up her arm and he was about to pull her to him when they heard voices coming down the hallway and the shadows in the hall danced to someone walking holding a lamp or candle.

Wolf pulled her back, further into the shadows. They wouldn't be seen from the door. Delia removed a book from the stack of books in front of her and peered through. Bann Esmerelle had walked in with two highly armed people. She rummaged through a drawer in her desk.

"You're agreement with me is to kill Commander Tabris and you've failed!" she said, pulling a paper from the desk and shaking it in the face of the man she was speaking with. "You assured me it would be handled by now."

"We've met with some unforeseen difficulties, the woman is heavily guarded by well-trained troops," he said.

"What?" Esmerelle scoffed, "You're the feared Antivan Crows who kill princes and kings inside their castles and you can't manage one measly elf?" She slapped the paper she had been waving around on the desk.

"We've decided on a new approach we think will work better. We're going to need a large distraction outside the Keep so that we can get inside and get set-up more readily."

"A distraction?" Bann Esmerelle said, thinking.

"One big enough to concentrate the troops and Wardens in one place."

"I think I can arrange that. The peasants are hungry and frightened. A few well-placed rumors and we could get them to riot."

The Crow nodded. "That sounds good. How soon can you do this?"

"I'll need a week," Esmerelle said. "Spreading fear and panic takes some time."

"Then a week from today, around sunset, have your rioters ready. We will use the distraction to hide inside the Keep. You might want to be there as well with any _friends_ you have," the Crow suggested.

Esmerelle nodded. "Very well, but this had better work or our deal is off."

The Crow nodded. "It will work." He and his companion stalked out of the library with the Bann following them.

Wolf moved carefully to the desk. He picked up the piece of paper and stuck it into a pocket inside his leather cuirass. Delia stood next to him, watching him opening the drawers of the desk. He swore softly and picked up a large ring. It disappeared into his pocket as well. He found something else in that drawer and also pocketed it.

"All right, done here," he whispered to her.

They heard Bann Esmerelle's voice again, she coming back towards the library. They went back into the stacks to see where she would go. She came into the library and put a lamp down on the desk. She stared a moment at the desk then opened first one drawer and then another looking for something.

Delia and Wolf exchanged a look between them.

Esmerelle slammed her hand down on the desk. "Stop the Crows! I need to ask them something. Someone unseen, outside the library, raced down the hallway and returned a few minutes later with the Crows.

"Our agreement," Bann Esmerelle said, "did you _happen _to pick it up?"

The Crows looked at one another and shook their heads. "You put it on the desk," one said.

"That's what I remember too," she said, "however it's gone." Her voice held a note of accusation.

"We have no need to take a paper we already have a copy of," the Crow pointed out.

Delia shrank back further into the shadows as the Crow turned and looked around the room. She silently unslung her bow and nocked an arrow. Wolf watched her and drew his daggers.

"Perhaps you have an unexpected guest," the Crow suggested. He walked towards the dark end of the library, where they were hiding, disappearing from Delia's sight. But his fellow Crow stayed near the Bann. It would be best to thin their numbers. Delia aimed for the other Crow and let her arrow fly. It hit him squarely in the throat.

Bann Esmerelle screamed for her guards and ran out of the library and the other Crow seemed to materialize out of the shadows and lunged at her. She only managed to just parry the attack using her shortbow. She scrambled backwards, nearly falling over Wolf. In a moment, she was thanking the Maker she had shot the other Crow because this one was not just good, he was extremely good.

Wolf was nearly overwhelmed by the Crow's attacks. He fell back, emerging out of the shadows between the rows of books. Delia switched to her daggers and nicked the Crow on his arm. He immediately saw who the fiercer opponent was and he turned to Delia. Delia and Wolf both were in front of him and he somehow was parrying their every attack. Delia just prayed he made a mistake before either of them did. But at least they had him on the defensive, he wasn't able to launch an attack while they were both on him.

She knew they were running out of time, Bann Esmerelle would be back with guards soon, they had to take this Crow down and get away. Delia watched his feet, he wasn't making the mistakes most fighters do. She feinted and then nicked him again. Finally Wolf nearly got an attack past his defense and it upset his balance slightly, Delia swept with her leg, expecting to take him down, no one ever expected it. But he was ready, he jumped over her leg and kick her. She staggered and nearly fell, her head hit an oil lamp, unlit fortunately, but her mask caught on it. She shook her head to get rid of the mask and was just barely ready for the Crow as he pressed his advantage.

She heard metal shod feet running down the hall and torch light bouncing against the walls. The noise might have distracted the Crow for a moment, but he left just enough of an opening that Delia was able to stab him with a dagger. He didn't react for a moment, just continued to fight, but eventually the wound began taking a toll on his abilities. He staggered, took another slice across the chest from Wolf, then he slipped in his own blood and fell. Delia leapt on him and slit his throat just as the guards began pouring into the library.

The torch light flood the room and Delia looked up, scrambling to her feet, meeting the eyes of Bann Esmerelle.

"Commander Tabris!" she shouted. "Kill her!"

There were too many guards. But they were also hampered in the small space of the library. Wolf pushed against one of the large bookcases and it started a chain reaction making the next bookcase fall. The falling books made the footing treacherous for the guards.

"Flee!" Wolf called to her. He pulled her by the arm to the balcony. "Go!"

She sheathed her blades and went over the railing and quickly sliding down the rope.

"Wolf! Come now!" she called, hoping he had enough time. She held her breath until she saw him sliding down the rope. He fell the last ten feet, but landed gracefully. They ran as fast as they could for their horses. They were halfway to the woods when they started to hear arrows thudding around them. Just before they got to the woods an arrow struck Delia in the back.

Wolf heard her grunt and saw her stop running. She took a few staggering steps and pitched forward. "Delia!" he shouted. He stopped and ran back and picked her up, hoping the next arrow didn't have his name on it. He mounted his horse and settled her across his lap, holding onto her. He kicked his horse into a gallop. He took a moment to look down at Delia. She was breathing but only barely.

"Hold on, damn it, Delia."

He somehow kept her across the saddle and still controlled the horse at a mad pace. It wasn't long before they were at the Keep. He carefully lifted her down and carried her into the courtyard. He was immediately stopped and challenged.

"Halt, who goes there!" The guard challenged him.

"I am Melchor d'Alboquerque, I have your Commander, she's been wounded. She needs a healer immediately." He said forcefully.

"The Commander is in the Keep, Ser. Varel's orders, she's not to leave," the guard replied, looking at the woman in his arms.

Wolf held her head up to the light. "Haven't you ever seen your Commander, idiot?" he was nearly frothing at his mouth with anger and impatience. "She's barely alive and if she dies it's on your head." He pushed past the guard. "Open the damn door!" He waited while the guard opened the door. "Get Varel!" Wolf yelled. "Get the healer."

The guard was spurred into action by Wolf. He didn't have far to go, Varel was in the throne room anxiously awaiting Delia's return. He heard the ruckus at the door and was walking to see what was happening as Wolf walked in.

"Maker's breath," Varel said when he saw her. "Is she alive?"

"Just barely," Wolf replied. "We need a healer."

Varel sent the guard running to Anders room. Anders ran down the stairs a few moments later, seeing his commander hang limply in the masked man's arms. He put his hand on her, noted the shallowness of her breath.

"Maker, she's nearly gone," he swore. He put his hands on her arms and sent some healing magic into her. Then he felt her pulse again, it was a little stronger. "I think we can take her upstairs. The arrow has to come out."

The mage motioned Wolf to follow him upstairs. He did, holding Delia carefully so he wouldn't jar the arrow. They laid her on her bed, on her stomach.

"Can you cut through her armor with something?" Anders asked.

Wolf nodded. He got one of his daggers and gently sliced through her armor, fortunately it wasn't a heavy leather. He was able to pull it away from her back. Then he sliced through the cotton shirt she wore underneath, leaving her with nothing but her breast band.

Varel walked into the room, carrying a basin of steaming water and Nathaniel behind him with a pile of clean bandages.

"I need someone to pull out the arrow while I keep her from bleeding to death," Anders said. "I'm also going to need some lyrium. Nate, can you go to my room and bring some here?"

"I'll pull out the arrow," Varel volunteered. He had removed many arrows in his time.

Wolf got up from where he was sitting on the bed to let Varel have access to her. Anders sat next to him, his hands on her back, around the wound. A steady blue light glowed from his hands.

"Pull now, Varel," he said.

Varel pulled the arrow out, glad the Commander was unconscious. It would have hurt like hell.

A gout of blood bubbled up from the wound and stained Anders's hands. The blue light intensified and Anders began to sweat with the effort. Soon the blood stopped pumping out and he removed his hands.

"I need a towel," he said.

Nathaniel returned with lyrium and healing potions. He handed a cloth to Anders to wipe his hands. He wiped her back too. The wound was still gaping but the bleeding had stopped. He uncorked a lyrium potion and drank it. Then he poured a healing potion over the wound. It closed a little. He put his hand back on the wound and the intense blue light flowed over her back again. This time when he removed his hands the hole had closed. He drank more lyrium and repeated it several more times. When he finished, the Commander was breathing normally but still unconscious. Her back however, looked perfectly normal.

"She may have an infection. Someone needs to stay the night with her and keep an eye on her temperature." Anders got up and nearly fell. He felt dizzy from drinking so much lyrium. "Get me if she gets worse." Anders left to go back to bed.

"Question is, how did the Commander end up with an arrow in her back?" Nathaniel said, his eyes narrowing at the masked man. "In fact, how did she leave the Keep? And why?"

"You'll have your answers tomorrow, I suspect," Varel said. "Right now we'd better let the Commander rest." He clapped a hand on Nathaniel's shoulder, lead him out of her bedroom, hoping he'd take the hint. He did, and Varel shut the door and turned to the masked man.

"You're the Dark Wolf, I take it?" Varel said. Something about the man seemed familiar.

Wolf sighed and reached up and pulled off his mask. "I think you know me as Melchor d'Alboquerque."

"Melchor?" Varel stood stunned for a moment. "You're the Dark Wolf?"

"I am. Or at least, I am now. It's a long story."

Varel crossed the room and clasped his wrist in a handshake. "Melchor! I can't believe it. I always wondered what happened to you after we escaped from Howe's dungeon."

Wolf flinched at the sound of his name. "I go by Wolf now. Melchor just doesn't sound quite so good in Ferelden as it did in Rivain."

Varel laughed, "I see your point." He pointed at the Commander. "So, what happened?"

"We were going to take care of Bann Esmerelle, thinking that would put an end to the conspiracy. The Bann was meeting with the Crows about their failures and they set up their next attempt. Unfortunately we were noticed and Bann Esmerelle spotted the Commander. We just barely escaped, but we did kill the two Crows. She was shot as we were fleeing."

"The Commander seems to have a death wish," Varel said. "I caught her leaving tonight and tried to stop her, but she wouldn't hear of it."

Wolf sighed. "This was all my fault. I set this up and it didn't go as planned."

Varel frowned. "And now the Commander was seen on the Bann's estate. This is not going to end well," he rubbed his forehead.

Wolf thought a moment. "It might not be as bad as all that." He reached inside his cuirass and pulled out the piece of paper he had folded up. He hadn't seen what was on it. He went over to a lamp and read. "Yes, this might save the day." He handed the paper to Varel who read it.

A smile slowly dawned on Varel's face. "Yes, this will definitely help."

"Thanks, Wolf, for getting the Commander back here and helping with this matter. I guess I'll be staying the night with her," Varel said.

Wolf coughed. "If it's all the same, I'd like to stay with her," he said.

Varel's eyebrow lifted. "Oh?"

"We've become... close. I feel responsible for what happened."

"I trust you, Mel... Wolf. You've always been an honorable man." Varel glanced at him sternly. Wolf detected a bit of fatherly protectiveness in the man when it came to the elf. "Don't let me down." He turned and left the Commander alone with Melchor..._ Wolf_.

Wolf pulled a chair alongside Delia's bed. He watched her breathe. Her breathing looked normal now but she was so pale from the loss of blood. He ran his hand over her back, unable to even find the wound now. The healer was talented, but what sort of injuries were left inside? She still had on her leather leggings and boots. He could at least make her more comfortable.

He sat on the edge of her bed and turned her over. She only stirred a little. He picked up a leg and put it on his lap, unlacing her boot and pulling it off. He pulled the sock off too and left her foot bare. It was so small. He carefully examined the toes, her little toe was so tiny yet perfectly formed. Something about the scale of her feet made him smile. He freed her other foot from it's encumbrance and unlaced her leather leggings. He pulled them off carefully, leaving the cotton ones she wore underneath alone. He picked her up just enough to tuck her under the blankets.

He pulled a chair over to the side of her bed and dozed lightly, waking up to check on her frequently. Sometime in the night she kicked her covers off and he saw her face gleaming with sweat. He touched her forehead, she had fever. He got up and went searching for the mage's room. He woke up someone else and they took him to Anders.

Anders opened his door looking exhausted. "Is there a problem?" he said, his voice burred with fatigue.

"She's got a fever," Wolf said.

"I'm not surprised. What does surprise me is that you're still here." Anders looked at Wolf suspiciously.

"Varel is aware I'm staying with her," Wolf said. _Maker! _he thought, _what a suspicious lot._ He didn't blame them. There was something about her that seemed to bring that out. Maybe it was her tiny stature and delicate features. Men tended to forget she was a vicious killing machine when she wanted to be.

"Hm," Anders hummed dubiously. "I'll be right there."

Wolf returned to Delia. He dampened a cloth and wiped the sweat off her forehead. Delia's eyes opened half-way, they looked clouded and unfocused.

"Wo..." she whispered barely audibly.

"Hm?" he said. Unsure what she was saying he put his ear next to her mouth. "What did you say, Delia?"

"I... want you," she whispered. She twined her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to him. "Fuck me," she whined and squirmed on the bed.

Wolf looked anxiously at the door. Anders was going to be coming in any second and this would be difficult to explain. "Shush, Delia," he tried to unwrap her arms from around his neck but she was clinging with a ferocious tenacity. "Go back to sleep, wolfling."

"Please," she whimpered. "Please, fuck me," she said, with impossibly bad timing because Anders was standing in the doorway listening to every word.

"She's delirious," Wolf explained. "She just woke up... with this notion."

"Um hm," Anders said dubiously. He said something low and made a gesture with his hands. She fell back onto the bed, asleep, her arms releasing Wolf's neck. "She should remain asleep for the rest of the night, provided nothing untoward wakes her." He glared at Wolf. "When I check on her in the morning, I expect to find her asleep."

Wolf nodded. "Of course... I'd never..." he trailed off, aware that nothing he said would convince the mage he was anything other than an opportunistic lecher who nearly got his commander killed.

Anders sat next to Delia and pumped more healing magic in her. In a few minutes she looked less sweaty. Anders tucked the covers in around her again. He left Wolf with one final glare.

Wolf closed the door after the mage and settled back into his chair. His last thought before his eyes closed was how much he wanted to be in the bed with her, his arms wrapped protectively around her, listening to her heart beating and her lungs working.


	11. Chapter 11

Wolf awoke with a pained groan when Anders returned the next morning. His neck was on fire from the uncomfortable position he had slept in. He glanced over at Delia, noting she'd barely moved since Anders put her to sleep.

"Is she all right?" he asked the mage anxiously.

Anders was sitting next to her on her bed, his fingers resting lightly on her pulse. "She's going to be fine. She just needs a few days of rest." He turned his squinty glare on Wolf. "So, um, thanks for watching her last night. We'll be sure and tell her you did, I'm sure she'll be grateful. But, you're exhausted and she needs to rest."

The meaning was clear, Wolf was being told to leave.

"No," Wolf said stubbornly. "I need to stay. I have to talk to her. To... apologize."

Anders sighed. "Perhaps I didn't make myself clear. Scram! Make yourself scarce. Get lost."

Varel walked into room to check on Delia and saw Anders glaring at Wolf and Wolf with his jaw set stubbornly. "Is there a problem, gentlemen?" he asked in his calm manner.

"He was just leaving," Anders said loudly.

"No, I wasn't actually. I was being told to leave." Wolf tried to keep his anger in check.

Varel sensed a rising tide of testosterone fueled posturing. "Okay. Wolf, why don't you join me for breakfast? We can catch up." He clapped Wolf on the back to show his approval to Anders. "Anders? Would you like to join us?"

Anders's glare reduced somewhat by Varel's apparent approval of the man. _Wolf? What the hell sort of name is that? _he thought. "No, thanks. I'll just check on the Commander."

Wolf turned to Varel reluctantly and left Delia's bedroom.

"Good _bloody _riddance," Anders murmured to the unconscious woman. "And what were you doing, Missy? Sneaking out of the Keep with that... reprobate? Wolf? Really? Some guy named Wolf?"

Delia stirred and her eyes fluttered open. "Anders?" she said, struggling to sit up. "Ow! Where..." she looked around, recognized her room. "How did I get here?"

"Don't get up yet," Anders put his hand on her shoulder and urged her to lay down again.

"It hurts to breathe," she complained.

"That's what happens when you take an arrow to the lung."

"An arrow?" she paused, thinking for a moment. _Running to the horses. Something hit her hard. Then pain and... nothing. _"Where's Wolf?" she said panic in her voice. "Is he all right?"

Anders grimaced. "Wolf... Wolf? Oh, the mangy creature in the mask that nearly got you killed last night?"

Delia struggled to rise again but Anders put a restraining hand on her shoulder. "Where is he?" she tried to struggle against him, but she was too weak.

"He's about somewhere," Anders waved his hand dismissively. "But what you need to think about now is recovering and drinking this tasty potion." He held a cup up to her mouth that smelled like cow flatulence.

Delia made a face and pushed his hand away. "Ugh," she complained.

"Drink it!" Anders made a stern face at her and propped her up with pillows so she could drink it.

"I'll drink it if you get Wolf," she bargained.

"Maker's bloody breath, woman, you're obsessed. All right. Drink it down, and I'll get him."

Delia eyes squinted shut, and her face grew pinched as she brought the noxious smelling drink to her lips. She tossed it back quickly and swallowed, tears of revulsion squeezed out of the corners of her eyes. She shivered and suppressed a strong urge to gag.

"There! Not so bad was it?"

Delia glared at him. "Get Wolf!"

"I will. I didn't say when though," Anders replied with more cheek than usual.

"Now!" she said forcefully.

"Look, your strength is coming back already. Isn't that tonic wonderful?" Anders teased her.

Her look was deadly. She was fed up. She tossed her blankets off and sat up. Her breath hissed with the effort and pain as she swung her legs over the side of her bed.

"I'm going to cut you, mage," she mumbled, "just as soon as I can." She put her head in her hands, wishing everything would stop spinning.

"Okay Commander. You win. I'll go fetch your mangy friend. Just lay back down."

"Do it, Anders, or I'm going downstairs myself."

"I'm going! Wait. Put a shirt on first." Anders didn't like thinking of Wolf seeing her with just her breast band on.

"Armoire," she said.

He flung it open and found one of the cotton shirts she wore under her armor. "Here," he handed her the shirt. She tried to raise her arm to put it on but cried out in pain. "Let me," he said. He put it over her head and carefully slid her arms in.

She was so dizzy with the effort that she fell back into bed. Anders covered her up again.

"Get him," she said weakly.

"I'm going. I'm going," Anders replied, leaving her.

* * *

Wolf hardly touched his breakfast. He felt responsible for nearly getting Delia killed and that hurt on several levels. First of all, she and the Wardens were necessary to solving Amaranthine's crisis with the darkspawn. Secondly, and most ridiculously, he was in love with her. _Why? _he asked himself. _I barely know her. _Yes, there was something about her deadly grace and dark beauty that he found intoxicating. But when she had labeled the noble class a bunch of useless parasites, that was when he really knew. He shared her sentiment. It was ironic, of course, that she was now a noble, although she laughed at the label, and he had formerly been one, although he had been too young to remember.

Now he was terrified she'd reject him for the disaster he'd made out of their task last night. Even worse, he didn't know how she felt about the Antivan she had been sleeping with in Denerim. Maybe Wolf was just a lark on the side.

The mage interrupted his breakfast with Varel. "The Commander wishes to see you, Wolf," he said. "Why, I can't imagine," he grumbled, not quite under his breath.

Varel got up with him. "I'd better see if there's anything she needs," he said.

Both Varel and Anders walked with him to her room.

"Commander," Varel got to her first, "do you need anything? Can you eat something?"

"Some food and water would be good, thanks Varel." Normally Varel would have rushed off to seen to her needs, but he was hovering today. It was obvious they didn't trust Wolf.

"Thanks Anders, Varel. You can go," she said, hoping they'd obey for a change. Anders looked inclined to disobey but a guiding hand on his shoulder from Varel propelled him to the door.

"Close the door please, Wolf," Delia asked him. She realized this was the first time she'd ever seen him in the daylight without his mask. Her impressions from several evenings prior were accurate. He was extremely attractive.

Wolf closed the door and sat next to her on the bed. "How are you feeling?" he asked, unsure what to say to her.

"A little weak. I don't think I'll be dueling any Crows for awhile," she smiled wanly. She tried to sit up but gave up and laid down again with a moan.

Wolf gathered up pillows from around her room. He helped her sit and tucked the pillows in behind her to support her. "Better?" he asked.

"Much, thanks." She plucked at the fuzz on her blanket. "Are you all right?" she asked. It was odd, she hadn't been able to think of anything but him since she had awoken, now she couldn't figure out what to say.

"I'm fine. How much do you remember from last night?" he asked.

"I remember running for the woods," she said.

"You were shot in the back with an arrow. I rode with you back to the Keep. Unfortunately, I left your horse behind."

"And the Bann saw me," she said with a grimace.

Wolf shook his head, looking very sorrowful. "I'm sorry, Delia. This is all my fault. I never should've asked you to come along. You could have died."

"Thank the Maker I did go. Can you imagine trying to fight that Crow alone? He was a monster. He was better than me. Better than Zevran too, I think."

Wolf looked up, a surprised look on his face. "Zevran?"

Delia nodded. "My, as you said, Antivan paramour. He was a Crow assassin."

"Do you remember his last name?" Wolf asked.

"Of course, Zevran Arainai. Why?"

Wolf's face became blank. "Just trying to remember if I knew him."

Delia's forehead furrowed. Wolf wasn't telling her something.

"Can I ask you a personal question, Delia?" Wolf asked.

She took his hand in hers. His skin was a deep lovely brown, different from Zevran's. His was a natural pigment, Zevran's was dark from being in the sun. Wolf's arm was dusted with black hair, Zevran's with golden hairs. "Of course, anything. I think we're beyond secrets aren't we?"

"Do you love him?" Wolf said, his dark eyes held hers.

Delia sighed. "No. I don't love him. I could have gone to Antiva with him. I almost did but I didn't think it would work. I'm not really cut out to be an assassin. I couldn't kill people for money no matter how much I said his profession didn't bother me." She paused a moment and decided to tell more. "I wasn't sure what I was going to do after the blight was over. I think the Grey Wardens saved me a second time."

Wolf looked curiously at her. "How so?"

"I've been handed a script for everything I've done in my life. I always have acted my role. After the blight, there was no more script to follow. I floundered around without a purpose until, I think, my self-destruction became my new purpose. Then the Grey Wardens put me in charge of, well, everything. They were idiots for doing it, but it did give me a new script to follow."

Wolf leaned over and smoothed the hair back from her face. Her ebony eyes were ringed with dark circles. "I'm glad you didn't succeed with your self-destruction," he said gently.

"Maybe I did. Bann Esmerelle will probably petition the King to have me tried for murder and burglary or whatever she can come up with. Despite everything, I'm still an elf and that rubs nearly everyone wrong to have me in a position of power."

"I don't think you have anything to worry about there. I took the agreement that she was waving around. It was quite specific about how the Crows were to kill you, and it has her signature on it," Wolf smiled at her.

"Really?" she asked. "I didn't realize you picked it up."

There was a knock on the door and a serving girl brought in a tray with food and water. She set it beside the bed and left.

"Where's the agreement? I'd like to see it," she said.

Wolf looked at her a moment. He was concerned about her physical state and what an emotional shock would do to her. "I think Varel has it."

"We should send some troops to arrest the bitch. I just want to be there for that," she said, gloating a bit.

Wolf picked up a slice of bread and slathered it with butter and marmalade and handed it to her. "Eat something," he said.

She smiled. His nagging wasn't as irritating now as it was when she first met him. She nibbled on the bread, finding she had no real appetite. "I could really use some water," she said.

He poured her a glass. "There is one other thing I want to ask you, Delia."

"Anything," she said.

"May I court you?" he asked.

"Court me?" Delia cocked her head to the side. The concept was foreign to her. There were arranged marriages, of course, she had nearly ended up in one. Then there was taking a lover. "I don't understand."

"I, well, we haven't known each other very long and I wanted you to know my intentions are... honorable."

Delia was even more confused. _Honorable intentions?_ She furrowed her forehead trying to make sense of what he was saying. "Why don't you just say exactly what you mean, because I'm not following you at all."

Wolf pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I mean that... damn it Delia, I care about you."

Delia smiled at him, but a doubt came to her. "I should warn you, if you think you're courting an _Arlessa_ you're going to end up disappointed. I'm in charge but I don't own any of this. It isn't going to pass to my heirs, it belongs to the Grey Wardens. I spent most of my own money rebuilding this place. Any money that comes in goes back into rebuilding the Grey Wardens, the Keep, and doing what needs to be done for the arling. I'm not interested in being part of any sort of kleptocracy."

Wolf's sighed. "This isn't about wealth, Delia. If anything, my experiences with nobility have left me allergic to them. The sort of nobility you possess isn't anything that is inherited from your parents. Your concern for the people of Amaranthine and sense of fairness is the source of your nobility, not some ridiculous title."

He picked up her hand and kissed it. "You evaded my question. May I court you?"

Delia laughed. "It seems you already have been, even on the day we met and you demanded a kiss. Now you ask for permission?"

"It's my Rivaini upbringing. One asks a lady's permission before making too many presumptions."

Delia couldn't suppress the laughter. "I have been enjoying your presumptions, although I think I've made at least as many as you have. So, my answer is 'yes', you may court me."

Wolf leaned over her and kissed her gently, afraid of hurting her. Delia tried to raise her arms to put them around his neck but the pain was too much.

"Be careful, wolfling, you have some healing to do. And I think your mage will incinerate me if he thinks I've touched you in any way."

"What?" she asked.

"He didn't approve of me staying with you last night."

"You stayed with me? I don't remember anything."

"You woke up with a fever at one point, I think you were delirious. Unfortunately your mage overheard you babbling and assumed I was taking liberties."

"Oh no, what did I say?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"You probably don't want to know," he warned her. "I was very flattered with your attentions, however."

"So you stayed up all night, watching me?" Delia smiled.

"I dozed a bit, in that chair."

"You look exhausted," she said, noting the dark circles under his eyes. "Come on." She patted the bed next to her. "Take a nap with me, I could use one too."

Wolf shook his head. "I don't want to jostle you while you're in pain."

"A little jostling will be therapeutic, I assure you." She smiled. "Although not as much jostling as I would prefer," she added sadly.

Wolf smiled at her lewd joke. "And your mage won't incinerate me?"

"Well, if you lock the door, then he'll never be the wiser, will he?" she said.

Wolf's eyebrow lifted rakishly and he got up and locked her bedroom door. He hesitated when he returned to her bed.

Delia seemed to read his mind. "Get comfortable, Wolf. I don't think you usually sleep in your armor do you?"

"Er, no." He took off his leather armor, leaving on the light clothes he wore underneath. He felt a little embarrassed with Delia's gaze on him, although the little smile that played on her lips made him think she liked what she saw. He climbed into bed next to her, removed all the pillows propping her up, but one.

"Comfortable?" he asked her.

"More so if your arm is around me," she said.

They struggled for a few minutes, trying to find a comfortable position that didn't aggravate her injury. When they finally found it she sighed happily and fell asleep within minutes.

Wolf stayed awake slightly longer, looking down at the beautiful, injured elf in his arms. He wanted to protect her, make her happy, make a life with her. Their affection was so new and fragile, that is why he was afraid something from her past might destroy it. He knew he would have to tell her sometime but he selfishly wanted to push it away so he could have her without this specter from the past interfering.

He pushed her ebony hair away from her pale cheek and kissed her lightly so as not to awaken her. His eyes were sorrowful, fearing he would lose what he had so recently found. Delia's rhythmic breathing was hyponotic and exhaustion finally claimed him. He slept peacefully with the elf he loved in his arms.


	12. Chapter 12

**Note: **_Reviews and a nice white wine - who am I kidding, it's 2-buck Chuck - are the two things that inspire me the most. Seriously, sometimes your comments change the course of the story. I love to hear what you think is happening._

_Seems like a lot of this story is confined to the Commander's bedroom, and there ain't even no sexin'. _

_..._

"Tell me why I shouldn't set him on fire right now," Anders said, glaring at Wolf sleeping with the Commander under his arm, draped around her waist. He had knocked on the door for five minutes before giving up and finding Varel, with the spare key.

Varel sighed, he suspected Anders's antipathy toward Wolf had a undercurrent of jealousy. The Commander had been locked in her room most of the morning. They had tried to check on her but she was a heavy sleeper. Apparently Wolf was too. He sat down next to her on the bed and shook her gently. "Wake up, Commander."

Delia opened her eyes a crack and moaned. "Hm?" She felt like she had been asleep for months. Her brain was still half in the Fade.

"Anders was getting worried when you didn't wake up. It's time for more potions and healing," he said gently.

Delia blinked sleepily and noticed Wolf's arm draped over her. She smiled at him. He was still sound asleep. "All right, just be quiet. I don't want to wake Wolf."

Anders made a face to show his disapproval but helped her sit up. "Drink this," he said, handing her another cup of that foul smelling tonic.

Delia looked up at Anders with pleading eyes. "No, please. No."

His look was pitiless. "You need it, it'll rebuild all that blood you lost."

She sighed and tried not to look at the cup but took it and took a deep breath then bolted the foul smelling liquid. Her body shook with revulsion. "Please tell me that was the last time." Anders handed her a glass of water and she gulped it down.

"We will see. When the color comes back to your skin then you don't need to drink more."

Delia vowed to pinch her cheeks next time she saw Anders.

Anders sat next to her on the bed and put his hand on her back. "Your lung and muscles are still repairing but I think I can help it along a little more." His hand glowed with healing energy. When he finished Delia did feel better.

"Thanks Anders, I'm feeling better. Maybe a shot of rejuvenation would help?" she suggested.

Anders barked a short laugh. "No, you don't need that now. You need to stay in bed and rest. And by resting I mean no physical activity of _any_ sort."

Delia gave him a warning look. "Don't worry, I'm not likely to jump up and start sparring today."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't sparring I was thinking of."

"Whatever you were thinking, Anders, just stop," Delia said.

Anders bit down another comment. "Look, if you take care of yourself you'll be up and about very soon, otherwise this could drag on awhile. That's all I'm saying."

Delia squeezed his hand. "I know. Thanks. I really appreciate this, even if I'm a grumpy patient."

Anders smiled at her. "I just don't like seeing my Commander hurt." He looked pointedly at Wolf when he said it.

His words touched her. She hadn't ever had a big brother but there was something very protective in the way he treated her that made her feel like a part of a family for the first time in a long time.

"He's okay, Anders. Actually, he's more than okay. I think you'll like him when you get to know him," she said softly, not wanting to wake him up. "Ask Varel, they know each other."

Varel nodded. "He was a good man when I knew him."

"Hmmm," Anders said dubiously. "Would you please leave your door unlocked so I can check on you again without having to call in someone to batter down the door?"

"All right, just promise you won't incinerate Wolf."

Anders cocked his head to the side. "Must I?"

Delia nodded.

"Fine then, I won't," he said, rising. "I'll leave you two to your napping."

"I'll have lunch sent up when it's ready, Commander," Varel said. "We should probably talk a little later about what to do about the Bann. If you're feeling strong enough."

Delia nodded. "After lunch," she said. "In the meantime, have Garavel recall some troops from the farmlands. We're going to need them to place her under arrest."

Varel nodded and the two men left. Delia discovered some of her pain had gone. She lifted Wolf's limp arm and snuggled into his chest, breathing his masculine scent. It was a shame their first time in bed together was so chaste. Perhaps it was the wound, or maybe something in Anders's tonic, but she had absolutely no desire for anything but to feel his warm, comforting bulk next to her. She prayed the state was only temporary. She drifted off to sleep again, feeling warm and contented.

...

Wolf awoke when lunch was brought in. He had slept soundly but his sleep had been disturbed by uneasiness. He gently disentangled himself from Delia and got up once the servants left. He dressed in his leathers again and reached into the pocket where he had stashed the things he had stolen from Bann Esmerelle. The large ring had been his father's official seal. It had an intricately carved d'Alboquerque crest. It was the only reminder he had of his father. Then he had his mother's engagement and wedding rings. He used to wear them on a chain around his neck until Esmerelle had arrested him and taken them.

Last of all, was the contract. Wolf had lied to Delia about Varel having the document. He didn't want her to know, not in her fragile state. He would have to tell her, this was not something he could protect her from. Wolf could not understand why her former lover would accept a new contract on her life. Could her refusal to go with him to Antiva have caused him to do this? Perhaps in some twisted way, it was an attempt for him to get her to come to Antiva. Granted, if she did it would be to hunt him down and kill him, but perhaps he thought he could win her over again? There was no angle he could get on the question that made sense to him. Perhaps in the end he was just a hardened professional and took the job to prove he _could_ kill her. What would it mean that he failed? Would he send more assassins against her? Maybe it was a matter of honor to succeed and he would come personally to do the job.

That would _not_ happen. He could protect her. She could protect herself too. He would make certain she was more cautious and wary. A disturbing vision of a sniper hiding on a rooftop sending an arrow into Delia alarmed him. How could he possibly know everywhere they could hide or every trick they could use? How could he defend against poison in her tea? Or a servant recruited to kill her with a poisoned pin? Perhaps he should flee with her to some remote spot on Thedas. He clenched his teeth and refused to think about it any more. They would figure this out together.

He sat down next to Delia and kissed her cheek. "Wake up, wolfling," he said, his lips hovering above her delicate ear. He wanted to trace the outline of her ear with his tongue, nibble on her earlobe and gently bite the spot on her neck where her sharply defined jaw met her tender throat but it would be unfair to inflame her when she was incapacitated.

Delia rolled onto her back and her eyes opened. She smiled up at Wolf.

"They brought lunch and..." he began to say.

"... and I should eat?" she said cutting him off.

"Can you sit up?" he asked.

Delia sat up in bed with little trouble. "Maybe I can sit on the sofa. I'm sick of being in bed." She threw her legs to the side of the bed and tentatively stood. "A little dizzy," she said and grabbed onto Wolf. He helped her walk the few steps to the sofa. She was wheezing slightly by the time she reached the sofa. When she sat down she coughed a chesty, rattling cough.

"We'd better get Anders," Wolf said.

"Oh Maker no! He'll make me drink that nasty stuff again," she said, shivering at the thought.

"But you're feeling better, aren't you?"

"I suppose." She pouted. "Wait until after I eat before getting him. I couldn't eat after taking that horrible potion."

Wolf fussed over her, giving her things to eat and encouraging her to eat more. She complained about having no appetite but she did manage to eat a lot.

"I'm going to get Anders," he told her and went to find him. A part of him knew he was postponing the inevitable but he reasoned that she needed to be strong.

Wolf found Anders and brought him back to Delia. Anders seemed a little less prickly this time and even tried to make conversation.

"So, is Wolf really your name?" he asked.

"No, it's a nickname. My real name sounds a little funny to Fereldans."

"What is it?" Anders asked.

"Melchor d'Alboquerque," he said, shrugging.

"Maker! Did your parents not like you?" Anders shivered in mock horror.

Wolf laughed. "It's a good Rivaini name. One passed down through my family for many generations. However, that tradition will end with me."

"I'm sure your offspring will be grateful to you," Anders said. He pushed through the door to the Commander's room just as she was coughing her rattling cough again.

"Ordinarily I would yell at you for sitting up when I told you to stay in bed," Anders scowled at her, "but it turns out you have fluid in your lungs and it needs to come up. Sitting up will make it drain better, and make it easier to cough up." He told her to lean forward and he put his ear to her back and ordered her to take some deep breaths. It made her cough more when she did.

"Can't you do something to just remove it?" she asked. "I feel like I can't get a good breath."

"Well, yes, but you'd really wouldn't like it. I'd have to insert a needle through your back, into your lung and drain it out that way. It hurts like hell and it has risks."

"Ew. No magic?"

"Unfortunately not. This just depends on the body disposing of the fluid in its own way. But sitting up is necessary. In fact, until the coughing stops you shouldn't lay down again. You might need to sleep sitting up. Get up and walk around a little too."

"If you gave me a stamina potion I think that would help," she said.

Anders tsked. "No, that would be a bit much for you in your condition. You shouldn't be trying to rev yourself up artificially. However, it would be a good idea for you to drink another tonic."

Delia's face fell and she looked at Wolf pleadingly. "Make him go," she begged.

Wolf shook his head. "He's your physician, Del, you have to do what he says."

Anders produced a vial and poured it into a glass and handed it to her. She looked reproachfully at both men. "I hate you both," she said sullenly. She choked down the vile liquid and washed it down with a glass of water.

"Good girl," Anders said.

"Commander," she reminded him tartly.

He laughed at her. "I'll be back in a couple hours and we'll see how you're doing."

"Sadistic torturer," she called after him as he left.

Wolf sat down next to her. "Are you comfortable?" he asked solicitously.

She nodded. "The pain is mostly gone."

Wolf pulled her close to him and she leaned against his chest. He bent down to kiss her forehead. "I have to tell you something disturbing, wolfling. I wasn't entirely truthful with you earlier."

She looked up at him, wondering at what prompted the sudden solemn tone. "What is it?" she asked.

"I told you Varel had the contract, he didn't. I had it. I didn't want you to see it until you were better." He tightened his grip on her, afraid perhaps she would slip away.

"Why? I'm not exactly unacquainted with assassination attempts. What could ..." her voice trailed off. She sat up straighter and pulled away from him. "Let me see it," she demanded, her voice suddenly cold.

Wolf pulled the folded paper from his pocket and handed it to her. "I am sorry, my love," he said.

Delia unfolded the parchment slowly. She slowly read over the terms of the contract. _Three assassins... kill Commander Delia Tabris... terms of payment..._ She dragged her eyes reluctantly to the bottom of the page. Bann Esmerelle and Master Zevran Arainai had signed the document.

The contract shook for a moment in her hand until Wolf took it from her. She felt as if she had been shot in the lung again. Her breath didn't want to come. _How could he? _she thought. Her mind refused to work except for the one word that reverberated through the empty, cold marble hallway of her mind: _why?_

Wolf watched her, his eyes creasing with concern. She seemed to be in shock. He pulled her back into his chest and she didn't resist. She simply didn't react at all. "Del, I am sorry, mi corazón," he murmured to her and stroked her hair.

Her breath finally rushed into her and she began coughing wretchedly. The deep cough racked her body and tears squeezed out of her eyes. When the fit finally subsided she sagged against Wolf. "Why didn't he just kill me when we were together? Why now after all this time? After everything we had together. Is nothing ever as it seems?"

"Some things are, my love. I am exactly as I seem. I promise you," he kissed her forehead. He thought she would cry. Her body shook in his arms, but when he looked at her face he saw rage, not tears.

"I will kill him. I will go to Antiva and kill him," she said, the words ripping from her throat in hoarse fury. "How could he betray me like that? We ended the blight together. I thought he loved me."

"Then I will go with you," he said quietly. He wondered if she even heard him.

She pushed away from him and stood up, her legs wobbled under her. "No. This is my matter to resolve. I won't risk anyone else." She walked over to her armoire, using the furniture along the way as a crutch, and pulled out her leather armor.

"What are you doing, my love?" he asked.

"I'm going to kill him," she replied.

A coughing fit gripped her and she nearly fell to the ground with the fury of the coughing spell. Wolf jumped up and crossed the floor to her. He caught her in his arms and carried her back to the sofa. She struggled against him weakly.

"Stop, Delia. Stop. You're in no shape to do anything. And you have a duty to Amaranthine to fulfill. After that, you can think about this, if you must. But until then, put it out of your mind." He held her tightly against him until she stopped struggling. He tipped her face up to look into his eyes. "Please, promise me. Put this aside for now." Finally lucidity came back to her eyes. The madness that had gripped her let go of her and she seemed to see him again.

Finally tears began slipping from her eyes, slowly. "Don't be him," she whispered. The fear in her heart now was that anyone was capable of epic betrayal.

Wolf wiped her tears away and kissed her eyes. "I am not him, my love. I am nothing like him. I will show you that everyday. I promise."

He held her and murmured to her until the tears stopped. She finally dozed off in his arms.


	13. Chapter 13

Delia hadn't been dozing more than fifteen minutes when there was a knock at her door.

"Come in," Wolf said. He hadn't moved since Delia had fallen asleep on his chest.

Varel opened the door. "I'm sorry to disturb you," he said, "but we have a problem."

Delia woke on hearing Varel's voice. She gave another great, racking cough. Varel's face creased hearing her cough so terribly. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Commander. But we've gotten word that Bann Esmerelle is on her way here with a large contingent of guards."

"Why would she do that?" Delia asked. She hoped that Varel couldn't see that emotional upheaval she had just been through. She sat up straighter, pushing away from where she had collapsed on Wolf.

"I'm not sure, Commander. Perhaps she thought she could have you arrested and dragged before the King for breaking into her estate?"

"When we have the contract with her signature? That's insane."

Varel shrugged. "Perhaps she doesn't realize we have it. Or perhaps she thinks you'll resist and be killed in the skirmish?"

"Did Captain Garavel get the troops back from the farmlands?" she asked.

"Yes, most of them just arrived. We still don't have a large force here. Reports are she outnumbers us."

"Stop her forces outside the gates and let her come inside with a small contingent and we'll arrest her then. If she wants to fight outside the gates, then we can accommodate her. Garavel can man the battlements with archers and ballistae. They'll be sitting ducks." She had to stop talking to cough again.

"Very well, Commander, we'll take care of it," Varel nodded to her, preparing to depart.

"No. I intend to be there. I wouldn't miss this for anything," she said with a feral smile.

"Delia, you can't," Wolf protested.

"I'm going to need some stamina potions and Anders can rejuvenate me when I need it," she said, ignoring Wolf's protests.

Varel's face looked distinctly disapproving. "Commander, we really can handle this. You don't need to be there."

"Oh, but I do. Revenge has wonderful healing properties. Already it gives me new strength," she said with an ironic smirk. "How long before she gets here?"

"She is perhaps thirty minutes out."

"Good. Send me a maid to help me dress, and Anders."

Varel nodded and left.

Wolf sighed. "Delia..."

"No," she said, holding up a hand to stop him. "I'm doing this. Don't argue with me. I want you to be there with me. This is as much about your revenge as it is mine."

Wolf shook his head, seeing there was not going to be any further arguing with her. "All right. Just be careful."

Delia scrutinized him. "You might want to clean up a bit, love. You're looking a bit scruffy." She scraped her thumb across his stubble and smiled grimly at him. "Would you see if Varel can loan you a razor? I want you to look sharp for your reunion with dear Esmerelle."

The maid came and helped Delia wash up and get into her finest armor. She fixed her hair too, in between coughing fits. Anders came and groused at her for what she was doing but he gave her the stamina tonics she wanted and promised to rejuvenate her if she started to flag.

Wolf carried her up to the battlements because she was still to weak for the stairs and exertion made her cough. Bann Esmerelle's force approached the Keep's gates. Captain Garavel and Varel were waiting for her. She could see them discussing something with the Bann. What they were saying, Delia couldn't hear, but the discussion looked heated. She saw archers poised along the battlements ready to fire on her if she did anything aggressive. Delia could see Esmerelle scanning the battlements until her eyes found her. It was too far to see the details, but she held her head defiantly and looked in her direction for a good long time. Finally she nodded at Varel, agreeing to his terms, and he allowed her inside the gates with a small force.

"We have to get down to the throne room," Delia said. Wolf picked her up again and rushed her downstairs. She gulped down a stamina potion and felt a surge of energy. She let herself cough one last time. She seated herself sideways on the throne, swinging her legs over the arm and lounging insouciantly, as if she didn't have a care in the world. Wolf stood next to her and Anders was behind her.

Esmerelle and her guards, along with Varel and Captain Garavel and a larger number of the Keep's soldiers, marched into the throne room. Bann Esmerelle was dressed in glittering plate armor that looked more ceremonial than functional. She also wore an elaborate longsword, overly decorated with gems and engravings. Delia suspected the woman didn't even have the strength to lift it over her head.

"Bann Esmerelle, so nice of you to visit," Delia said. She swung her legs around to the front of the seat. It briefly annoyed her that they didn't touch the floor. _Note to self, _she thought, _get a smaller chair. _"It saves me a trip."

"Delia Tabris, I am here to charge you with burglary and murder. You must immediately surrender to me and face justice in Denerim!" she said, her voice low and furious.

"Oh, dear," she said theatrically, "whatever shall I do?" She was nearly unable to control a coughing spasm that was tickling in her lungs. Wolf could see a fine sheen of sweat forming on her forehead.

"The contract, please," she held out her hand to Wolf and spoke softly.

"Did you really think you could get away with an assassination plot against me, Esmerelle?" She held up the contract. "We've got your signature right here. We killed your assassins but I hardly think anyone would call that murder."

"It's a forgery!" the Bann exclaimed. "I never..."

Delia could feel another surge of rejuvenation just as she felt her voice might give out. "Really? Well, it is a remarkable coincidence then that you were entertaining two Crow assassins and setting up another assassination attempt against me. Perhaps a few of your co-conspirators will be willing to dish in exchange for lighter treatment."

Bann Esmerelle snorted indignantly. "A conspiracy? What nonsense."

"We do have their names, my dear Esmerelle. Melchor found them for me," she said, gesturing to Wolf.

The Bann's glare turned on Wolf. "Melchor! That man is an escapee from justice!"

"Yes, from Arl Howe's justice. I'm quite familiar with the old Arl's penchant for imprisoning and torturing innocents."

Varel nodded beside her. "I myself can attest to that," he said. "Escaping from Howe's prison is a badge of honor these days."

Delia looked up at Wolf. He had a smirk on his face. "Which of the conspirators do you think will turn on her first, Melchor?"

"Lady Liza Packton always had a strong streak of self-preservation," he said, rubbing his newly shaved chin musingly. "Or perhaps Ser Guy, he's a bit of a opportunistic weasel. He'd probably turn on his own mother to save his hide."

Bann Esmerelle was beginning to look panicked. Wolf had touched on a raw nerve. She knew her _friends_ were weak.

Delia stood, carefully bracing herself against the arm of the throne in a way the Bann couldn't see. Another wave of rejuvenation passed over her. "Bann Esmerelle, I am placing you under arrest for leading a conspiracy to assassinate me. You'll be taken to Denerim and tried there."

"Never!" she shouted. "Attack them!" she ordered her guards.

The guards looked around at the soldiers in the throne room. Attacking would be suicidal. Delia could read the doubt and hesitation on their faces. Their Bann had tried to murder the Hero of Ferelden. They held no excessive love for this woman.

Their hesitation was enough. Garavel signaled his soldiers to close in on the Bann and her guards. "Throw down your weapons and you will be allowed to go free," he told them. They didn't hesitate to surrender. Swords hit the floor like metal rain.

"Cowards! Ingrates!" Bann Esmerelle screamed. "You swore to give your lives in service to me," she cursed at them. She drew her longsword but Garavel was on in her in a flash and knocked it out of her grasp with his own sword.

"Funny, I seem to recall a similar oath of allegiance you swore to me, Esmerelle. Captain Garavel, would you escort Esmerelle to the prison. We will turn her over to the crown for justice in a few days."

Her captain bowed and escorted the cursing, screaming woman away and Delia collapsed into the throne and coughed until she nearly passed out.

"Ow," she said, panting for air after she stopped. "Well, that went well!" she said cheerfully. Then the potions and spells wore off. She wavered a moment then slumped in the chair unconscious.

"Saying '_I told you so_' would be so much more gratifying if she were awake," Anders said with a sigh. "Well, let's get her back to her room at least."

Delia's lungs had accumulated a lot more fluid and Anders had to resort to draining them with a barbarically painful procedure. However, being a mage, he had a spell to put her to sleep so she was spared the pain. Two more days of drinking horrible tasting potions four times a day and she was feeling much better.

When Delia awoke from the lung draining Wolf was nearby. "Wolf," she said weakly. "Is that stupid arrow going to kill me yet?"

Wolf smiled at her and stroked her hair. "No, Anders said your lungs are finally doing well. If you're good you can be up in two days."

"You must be getting sick of looking after an invalid. You don't need to stay," she hesitated, "if you don't want to."

"What if I want to?" he asked. "I am courting you after all," he kissed her cheek.

"This surely wasn't what you had in mind, looking after an invalid."

"Well, you can see then that I would pass the _through sickness and in health_ thing right off the bat, no?" he said with a little smile.

Delia chuckled. "Well then, if you want to stay, perhaps you should go collect your belongings and bring them to the Keep? Then you won't have to borrow Varel's razor." She blushed slightly, something Wolf thought he had never seen her do. "There are certainly lots of spare rooms in the Keep or even... well, this room is large enough. If... I mean, if you wanted to. It's up to you, of course." She plucked at the fuzz of her blanket shyly.

Delia being shy and embarrassed was something he had never seen. It was rather charming. "Are you asking me to move in with you?" he asked, hoping to extend the moment.

"If you want to," she said quietly, still fiddling with her blanket.

Wolf rubbed his chin thoughtfully as though pondering it. "Well, the room is large and the bed is quite comfortable. My roommate doesn't snore, which is always a plus. She is somewhat argumentative, however, but refreshingly direct and very beautiful. Hmmmm... I think that it would be an acceptable arrangement."

"Acceptable?" Delia squeaked with indignation.

"And there's the argumentativeness already!" he teased her.

She punched him in the arm, weakly. "Go get your belongings. Talk to the stable master and he'll get you a cart and horse if you need it."

He grinned at her. "Right away, Commander."

"Could you send Varel up while you're headed down?" she asked.

"Of course, wolfling," he said. He bent over her and kissed her tenderly. He felt her respond to his kiss by nibbling on his lower lip. He moaned against her mouth and broke away from her. "You really need to get better soon, mi corazón. There are so many things I intend to do to you in this big comfortable bed."

She smiled at him. "Well then, I'll be sure to drink all of Anders potions without complaint."

"I won't be back until tomorrow, if I go now. Are you sure you want me to go now?"

"Yes. I'll be fine, probably even much improved when you get back."

He kissed her again and held her a moment and then he left. Delia sighed happily and sank into her pillow wishing her body would heal faster. Varel entered the room a few minutes later.

"How are you feeling, Commander? Wolf said you wanted to see me." He sat beside her on her bed.

"I think better. That horrible cough is gone and I'm breathing freely. Just very tired."

Varel nodded. "Anders said you should be recovering quickly now. He'll probably be stopping by shortly."

"I want to go with the escort taking Bann Esmerelle to Denerim. Can we postpone that until I'm better? I think I should explain to Alistair exactly what happened."

Varel looked concerned. "I don't think that's wise. The darkspawn attacks are becoming more frequent and your accident has pushed a lot of things off. Could you just write him a letter? Either Garavel or I can take her to Denerim."

She nodded. "I suppose you're right, although I would dearly love to see her hang."

Varel nodded in sympathy. "You're not the only one," he said.

"Wolf is moving into the Keep," she blurted out suddenly.

Varel looked surprised. "Is he going to take the Joining?"

Delia shook her head. "No. At least, I don't want him to. He can train with the soldiers and Wardens. He'll be useful."

"Should I have a room made ready for him?" Varel asked, watching her closely.

"That won't be necessary. He's moving into my room." She wondered how Varel would react.

"Is that wise?" he asked. "People will gossip. It's not typical for Arlessas to take lovers openly."

She rolled her eyes at the title. "I'm no damn Arlessa, Varel, I'm a Grey Warden. No one cares what we do in our bedrooms as long as it doesn't involve an archdemon."

Varel laughed. "I wouldn't be so sure about that. Whatever you do is going the topic of discussion all over Thedas. But you could have chosen worse. Wolf is a good man, except for the part about robbing people."

"I have chosen worse, trust me. And he only stole from particularly egregious nobles... and me."

Varel looked surprised. "He stole from you? What did he take? Other than your heart, I assume."

Delia smiled wryly, "Cute. Well he stole a name from me. A reputation, of sorts."

"Oh?" Varel looked interested. "You did mention briefly you had been the Dark Wolf, but I didn't understand. As I told you before, whatever you tell me I will hold in confidence."

"I trust you," she bit her lip and decided to tell him. "When you said to seek out the Dark Wolf I was confused because that had been my name once. Mine and my partner's. We robbed many of the nobles allied with Howe and Loghain. Even Loghain himself. We stole his crown. The money we used to buy weapons and armor, feed ourselves, and to help raise the army for the blight."

Varel's eyebrows looked about to shoot off his forehead. "You were the Dark Wolf?"

Delia nodded. "Yes, in Denerim. So when I heard there was an upstart in Amaranthine, I had to see who was laying claim to the name. That's when I met Wolf... Melchor. It turns out, he had planned a lot of the jobs we did in Denerim, although we never met."

Varel smiled at her. "And you fell in love with him?"

"No, I found him irritating and smug. But he grew on me," she said, smiling as she remembered how infuriating he had been.

"An interesting story, Commander, is there more?"

"Much more, but I'd probably need to be fairly drunk to tell it. None of my companions during the blight knew about my Dark Wolf activities. I was sure they wouldn't approve, but we were desperate for money."

"Then perhaps someday I can coax more of the story out of you with a bottle of good Antivan brandy. Was there anything else, Commander?"

"I could use a maid to check on me periodically while Wolf is gone to fetch his things. He'll be back tomorrow."

Varel nodded. "I'll have one attend to you."

Varel left and Delia was worn out by her storytelling she snoozed until the maid came. Then she asked for a bath. After the bath Anders listened to her lungs again and made her drink another nasty potion, which she did without complaint this time.

"I'll drink two of them if it'll speed this up," she groused.

Anders shook his head. "No, sorry. Just eat a lot and sleep a lot. You'll be up in no time."

So she did her best, for once, to follow directions.

...

When she awoke the next day she felt vastly better. She sat up on the side of her bed. _No dizziness. _She stood. _Still no dizziness. _She walked to the armoire and got a simple gown out. Carmine looked good with her black hair and eyes. It was one of the very few gowns she owned. She dug through her drawers until she found a silky chemise. She poured the chilly water from the ewer into the basin and washed, then dressed. She looked at herself in the mirror. Unfortunately she had lost more weight with her injury and her small breasts were even smaller. Her ribs stuck out too. She vowed to put on more weight. Maybe Anders had a tonic that could make her eat more.

She smiled, happy to be able to do simple tasks for herself again. She wore her hair unbraided for a change and brushed it until it fell down her back in smooth, ebony waves. Anders would yell at her, no doubt, but there was no use in lingering in bed since she felt so well. She went downstairs, carefully at first until she was sure her strength would last, but she quickly gained confidence that it was not going to desert her immediately. When she walked into the dining room most of the Wardens were already eating breakfast and they stopped and stared when she walked in.

She smiled and looked at them. "Not dead yet," she said.

Anders looked up at her in surprise. "You do look... good," his eyes swept over her appreciating seeing her in a gown with her hair down, "but are you sure you should be up?"

"Stabbing my lungs with a needle did me a lot of good." She got an evil grin. "Funny, isn't it? All that magic and you had to resort to a procedure any well-trained medic could do?"

Anders's eyes narrowed. "Um hm, well next time you take an arrow to the lung lets see how well that '_well-trained medic_' does."

Delia smiled apologetically. "I am just teasing, Anders. I owe you a lot for saving my life." She leaned over and hugged him.

"I should make you drink that tonic for several more days because of that crack," he said, but he smiled at her, forgiving her the jest at his expense.

Delia took a seat next to Anders and piled her plate high with food.

Nathaniel cleared his throat. "So, are you going to tell us about this mysterious man who nearly got you killed and has been hovering around ever since?"

Delia blushed. "He's the son of an exiled Rivaini noble. His name is... difficult to pronounce, so he goes by Wolf."

Anders wiped his mouth, laughing into his napkin. "Oh come on, Commander, tell them."

"Melchor d'Alboquerque," she grimaced as she said it.

The Wardens burst out laughing.

Delia conveniently forgot her own burst of hilarity when she had first heard his name. "Hey!" she scolded them. "It's unfair to make fun of someone's name. Besides, it is a noble name, with a glorious history, in Rivain. It just sounds funny to our ears." She shot a glare around the table and the laughing subsided.

Nathaniel wiped his smirk off his face. "And how did you come to know this... Wolf?"

"I hired him to look into the assassination conspiracy. He found many of the conspirators and... I was to handle them myself."

"Handle them?" Nathaniel asked, his eyebrow raising with interest.

"Take... counter-measures," she replied.

Oghren grunted. "Remember that Crow our Commander used to forge the moaning statue with? She learned a trick or two from him."

Delia's face turned to stone. "Don't mention him in my presence again."

Oghren looked surprised. "Really? I thought you two left on good terms."

"Enough, Oghren. I meant what I said," she put her fork down with a clatter, ready to leave the dining room.

Oghren's face looked puzzled for a few moments then a look of shock and enlightenment passed over him. He looked to be ready to spout another question but Nathaniel put a warning hand on his shoulder.

"So what happened with the counter-measures? Did you actually kill the conspirators?" Nathaniel asked, badly wanting to hear more of the story.

Delia grimaced. "One, yes. I couldn't arrest him because revealing I knew about the conspiracy would make them act out of desperation. But shortly after Wolf found the leader of the conspiracy, Bann Esmerelle."

Nathaniel looked impressed. His Commander was nothing like he thought she was. She seemed to have a dark, lawless side. Something he certainly had not heard about her from the stories of the blight.

"So, Bann Esmerelle was going to be a tough target but I figured if I got her, the conspiracy would fall apart," she said, glossing over the details. "Wolf and I went together. Our goal was simply to take... counter-measures, but it was complicated by there being two assassins with her, plotting the details of their next attempt on my life. We saw Esmerelle had a signed contract with the Crows, so we took that. Unfortunately, in doing so we alerted them to our presence. I killed one immediately but the second one was a monster. It took both Wolf and I to bring him down. Then the guards arrived and we had to flee. We had nearly made it to our horses when I was shot."

She paused to shovel in more food.

"So, Wolf saved my life by getting me back to the Keep as quickly as he did."

Anders looked at her suspiciously. "Why did he wear that mask?"

"It's usually a good idea to hid your identity during such matters. I was wearing a mask too, but it fell off in the battle. I didn't want anyone to know what I was up to, of course. But with Wolf, he had an even better reason. Bann Esmerelle had thrown him in prison once, for making a comment about Loghain's retreat. So, he wanted to avoid that fate for a second time."

Delia thought she did a credible job of covering up Wolf's more larcenous background.

"So now what? Wolf is gone and we're back to fighting darkspawn?" Nathaniel asked.

"Well, the conspiracy is over most likely. The remaining conspirators will probably turn on Bann Esmerelle or fade away. We have the contract to prove her involvement. I think I can put this behind me." The last sentence was, of course, a complete lie. She hadn't put it behind her. There was still one more loose end to take care of, but it would have to wait.

"And what about Wolf?" Anders pressed.

"Wolf is returning," she said simply.

"Oh?" he replied. "To become a Grey Warden?"

Delia shook her head. "Not if I can help it. Most of us became Wardens out of necessity, not choice. Except Oghren, who thought it was an opportunity to experience a new, exotic drink."

Anders was unsatisfied by her answer. "Then what will he be doing?"

"He's been very helpful with the conspiracy. He has a lot of contacts and knows Amaranthine well, plus he is a capable fighter. He'll be useful in many capacities."

"I bet he will be," Anders said with an obvious double meaning implied.

Delia coughed and her cheeks grew slightly red. "Yes, well. I should be in fighting form in a day or two. Agreed, Anders?"

"Would it really matter what I say?" he asked.

"Not really. But as soon as I'm a little stronger, we'll start looking for Kristoff again. So enjoy your time off, it isn't going to last."

The Wardens chatted amiably and Delia tried to eat as much as she possibly could. She spent a little time with Varel and Captain Garavel after breakfast, taking care of some small matters. Then she went back to her room, feeling a little tired after the minor exertions. She laid down on top of her bed and fell asleep fast.

...

**Note: **_Thanks so much to Jenna53, CynderJenn, Eva Galana, bioncafemme, zevgirl, Nithu, Lavinia Luscious for the reviews! I appreciate your feedback._


	14. Chapter 14

**Vigil's Keep, Amaranthine**

Wolf pulled open the door to her... _no their..._ room when he returned. When he saw Delia asleep on the bed, he asked the servants to postpone unloading the cart until later. His hand went to the chain around his neck and felt for his mother's rings. _You'd like her, _he said to his mother in his mind. _She's like you in some ways, impetuous and fearless. She could almost be Rivaini. I am going to marry this woman, Mama.  
_  
Wolf turned and shut the door quietly, locking it behind him. He walked to the bed soundlessly and looked at Delia sleeping on top of the coverlet. She was wearing a gown that flowed like dark red water, softening the sharp angles of a body where the ribs could be counted. Her head was tipped to the side, resting on her cheek, displaying the long, elegant length of her neck marked by a sharply defined jaw at one end and a sharp collar bone at the other. Blood red silk wrapped around ebony curls, strangling them into a loose pony tail. The sun streamed into the room making motes of dust glitter as they danced through the air. The dark smudges under her eyes were gone and her skin looked rosy, not the pallid white from loss of blood.

Wolf knelt beside the bed and leaned over to kiss her cheek, remember a tale from his childhood of a knight kissing a princess in an enchanted sleep. Her black lashes swept open and her dark eyes met his, they were still clouded with sleep.

"Hi," she said smiling.

"Hello, sweet wolfling," he kissed her gently. "Are you feeling better?"

"I am, actually," she said, her hand moved to caress his jaw. "I got out of bed, ate breakfast with everyone else, did a little work with Varel and Captain Garavel." She yawned and rubbed her eyes. "But then I needed a little nap."

"And do you feel well-rested now?" he asked with a distinctive arch in his eyebrow. He removed the scarlet ribbon confining her hair in a pony tail.

Delia smiled a tiny mischievous smile, catching onto the motive behind the question. "I feel remarkably well-rested." She twined a spiral of his shoulder-length, wavy black hair around her finger. "And you, Wolf? Do you feel rested?"

His eyes flickered warmly. "I feel incredibly rested," he said leaning to cover her mouth with his own. Her lips parted under his and they explored each others mouth with a leisure they hadn't ever had before. Wolf wove his hands into Delia's long tresses, feeling them melt through his fingers like cool silk. He remembered the first kiss they shared, he caught her bottom lip between his teeth and gave it a little nip.

"Real wolves bite," he mumbled against her lips. He felt Delia's lips curve in a smile.

"I hope so," she said, her voice husky with desire.

He kissed his way down her jaw, and down the slender column of her throat, then up to her delicate ear. He pulled her hair out of the way and nipped her gently on the neck, just under her jaw. He heard her inhale sharply and her eyes went half shut with pleasure. He kissed the spot he nipped and moved onto her ear. He worried at the lobe with his teeth until she sighed, then he outlined the shape of her ear with his tongue. The tip, he nibbled and licked until she moaned. Parts of her ear were so sensitive that her hands gripped at his hair when he just breathed on them with his hot breath. His hot tongue stabbing into the center of her ear made her shiver.

"I have a plan, my wolfing," he whispered, his lips hovering right before her ear.

"What sort of plan?" she whispered hoarsely. His voice sent a tremor through her.

"I'm going to make sweet, gentle love to you while you do nothing. I don't want you to exert yourself one bit."

"That hardly sounds fair," she protested.

"Your mage will kill me if I cause you to relapse and then you will have to go on without me," he said, pretending to pout. His plan was a little more devious than he exposed. He wanted to overwhelm her with pleasure to bind her to him. His father had told him, _"Men fall in love using their eyes. Women fall in love using their senses." _He wanted her to forget about the Antivan, forget his betrayal and her vengance. Deluging her senses might be the best way to do that.

"I will try, Wolf, but I'm not used to being so passive."

Wolf laughed. "I will make certain you don't..." he stopped, to suck on her neck again, "... over-exert." His fingers went to the buttons on her dress. They were tiny buttons, in a long row down the front. His fingers were clever and dexterous and they quickly unbuttoned enough so he could see the top of her breasts. He laid aside what he had unbuttoned and kissed the exposed skin.

"You are perfection, mi corazón," he told her, his voice caressing her just as his hands and lips did. He unbuttoned more buttons and pushed her gown down to her waist, leaving her covered in her silk chemise. His hands toyed with her breasts through the silk and the nipples hardened. He could see a hint of their rosy hue through the silk. He pushed her dress down to her hips and pulled off her chemise, leaving her naked from the waist up.

He put his hands over her breasts. They were small, even for an elf. A testament to her athletic life and random eating habits. Not that he cared, it was her pert behind that intrigued him the most. He rolled a nipple between his thumb and forefinger and she came to life under him, her chest flushing pink. His mouth went on the other one and sucked the peak, reconfiguring it into a hard knot. When he used his teeth gently she moaned. She was not a delicate flower that would tatter under a strong touch. He could sense that she like things a little on the rough side. When he pinched her other nipple hard and she nearly came off the bed hissing '_yes' _he knew he had read her correctly.

He unbuttoned a few more buttons and pulled her dress the rest of the way off, then her smalls. He could smell the light, heady aroma of her arousal. It went directly to his own arousal and his breeches were beginning to feel uncomfortably tight.

"Undress, Wolf," she told him. "I want to see you."

He sat at the side of her bed and pulled off his boots and then his shirt.

"Mmmmm," she murmured as she ran her hands over his finely chiseled chest and the black hair he sported there. Her hand dipped to his breeches and she tried to unlace them. He pulled her hands away.

"No, wolfling. Not tonight," he brought one of her hands up to his lips. "You know, your fingers are like legs?" He nibbled lightly on the very tip of her finger. "That's your foot, is it ticklish?"

She laughed and wiggled her finger against his lips.

"This first knuckle is like your ankle." He kissed her _'ankle'_. "And this is your knee." He kissed her behind the _'knee'. _"This fleshier part is your thigh, where I wrap my hands. And then..." His tongue went to the webbing between her fingers and he sucked on the flesh demonstrating.

Delia's eyes went wide. "Oh," she breathed, surprised at the feelings he had coaxed out of her hand.

Then he left her hand and went to her real legs. He caressed her feet, which made her giggle and then kissed the top of her foot. He lifted her leg and kissed the ankle, letting his tongue stroke her ankle bone. Then the back of her knee. Finally he adjusted his position and his hands went to the backs of her thighs and he opened her legs and saw the delicate pink folds within. His hands caressed her thighs and he kissed her lower belly and around her sex.

She moaned and worked her fingers into his hair.

He ran his finger lightly around her sex and she writhed. He grabbed onto her thighs and pulled her open further. He teased her with his tongue next and she whined with her longing. His tongue flickered against her entrance and his finger rubbed around her nub. She moaned loudly and called his name. Then he switched, his mouth closing over the hooded flesh and his finger working inside her. She was soaking wet and writhing against him. He added another finger and moved them, angling them a certain way until her fingers tightened in his hair. He continued as her ecstasy grew and finally she teetered over the cliff edge and her legs tightened around him, grabbing hold with their considerable power and she moaned his name. He felt her channel walls spasm around his fingers but he didn't stop until she had let go of him.

He climbed up her body and kissed her. She could taste herself on him. "You taste like the ocean," he told her. "Clean, salty, a little sweet." She smiled against his mouth.

"Wolf, I need you inside me," Delia whined. "I'm feeling fine, better than fine now."

"No, wolfling, I told you. No over-exertion."

"You feed a starving woman an appetizer and withhold the main course?" Delia pouted. "You're a cruel man." She moved her hand over his erection and rubbed her hand along his length. "Wardens have large appetites, Wolf. I should have warned you."

Wolf swallowed hard. His resolve was weakening. "You are a terrible patient, Delia, you never listen to your doctors."

"My doctor is leaving his patient with a raging fever. He is irresponsible." She kissed him hard, her tongue suggested what he should do with his manhood.

Wolf sighed, knowing he was defeated. "All right, but on my terms."

Delia cheered enthusiastically. "I agree." Her hands went to his laces again and she loosened them and pushed his breeches down. He took them off the rest of the way. She looked at him, appreciating his generous proportions. She wrapped her hand around him and stroked him a few times.

"Turn on your side, Del," he ordered her.

She turned on her side, facing him.

"No, other way."

She rolled to her other side. He slid his leg between hers. He put his arm under her head to make her more comfortable. It was like spooning, with a few modifications. She hooked her top leg behind his and he rubbed his length against her sex, teasing her.

"Do you want your main course, wolfling?" he said, his voice was low with desire.

"Yes," she hissed.

"Where are your manners?" he teased.

"Yes... please," she sighed.

"That's better." He pushed himself into her a little way, taking care to go slowly. She was tight but very wet. He wrapped her up tightly in his arms so she couldn't move and he edged into her a little further. She seemed to stiffen in his arms, as if in pain.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked.

"Keep going, I'll adjust," she said.

"No need to hurry," he said and moved the hand wrapped around her waist to her nub. He rubbed her gently, taking into account her sensitivity. When she began to move against him, he ventured to push a little further. This time the gasp sounded like all pleasure. He slowly inched himself in until he was fully sheathed within her. The sweat was beading on his forehead as he fought the impulse to thrust wildly.

"Uncomfortable?" he asked.

"No," she replied in a strangled voice. "No... you could move."

He concentrated on stimulating her, bringing her just to the edge of release, and then he slowly withdrew. Her breath was coming quickly. He gently pushed inside her again, afraid to hurt her.

"Harder," she said, allaying his fears of hurting her.

He withdrew again, more quickly and plunged into her. She moaned breathily and he repeated the action while dipping his fingers into her dripping arousal to rub again around her pearl. A few more strokes and she rolled her mouth onto his arm, under her head, and let loose with a muffled shriek. He slowed for a few moments, trying to give her time to recover. He wasn't done with her yet.

"More, wolfling?" he asked her.

She sobbed out a 'yes' to his question between ragged breaths. He pulled away from her and piled up some pillows and placed her on them, her rear raised into the air and kissed each of her firm cheeks and penetrated her again. This time his strokes were more aggressive, he was nearing his own peak. He thrust his hand underneath her and sought out her pearl again. She writhed, pressing down against his hand. He could hear her quickly building to another release as he pounded against her. He pulled up on her hips with his one free arm and found an angle she seemed to like. A few more thrusts and she was crying out into the pillow and clenching around him in an arrhythmic cadence. He spilled into her, shouting her name, and thrust a few more times until he collapsed against her back, unable to hold himself up.

"Delia, mi corazón," he mumbled into her shoulder, "have I satisfied your Grey Warden appetite?"

"Oh Maker, yes."

He rolled off her and he gathered her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her. "Your fever is broken?" he asked.

"Completely cured," she giggled. "You're a good doctor. My recovery is assured."

"You'd better give the credit to Anders, otherwise he'll probably incinerate me for certain."

Delia laughed sleepily and curled into his chest. He pulled the coverlet around them and they dozed off until someone woke them by pounding on the door.

"Lunch is ready, Commander, the servant told her when she opened the door. Warden Anders asked that I tell you so you wouldn't miss it."

"Very well, we'll be done in a few minutes," she said. Anders seemed to take some sort of delight in intruding on the time she spent with Wolf. She was going to have to box his ears if he didn't stop it.

She quickly cleaned up and dressed and got Wolf up. "Well, we'd best go have lunch with everyone. They're going to be curious about you."

Wolf kissed her on the top of her head. "I'll bet. I just hope they like me better than your mage does."

Lunch went well. Wolf seemed to integrate quickly with the others and Anders remarked that she looked good. Delia ate a lot, probably because Wolf kept piling more food onto her plate. Nathaniel was interested in hearing about Wolf's origins in Rivain. Garavel came into the dining room just before they finished and announced he was leaving with Bann Esmerelle for Denerim. Varel handed him the letter that he and the Commander had written that morning, along with the Crow contract.

Oghren saw her expression turn sad when she saw the contract again. He just couldn't leave it alone. "What are you going to do about that, Commander?"

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Right now nothing. But I swear to the Maker I'm going to go to Antiva and end him personally if he ever does this again."

Wolf reached under the table and took her hand in his. "Forget him, Delia. There are more important things to do now."

The other Wardens nodded in agreement and started to chatter about all the things they had to do and which they should do next. It took her mind off of Zevran's betrayal.

In the days that followed, after Anders pronounced her recovered. Wolf often slept alone while she was out chasing darkspawn or searching for the lost Warden. He helped Varel and Garavel and assisted in training soldiers. When she came back to the Keep he made her eat enough, sleep enough and he babied her. Delia loved it. She was happier than she could remember since before the end of the blight. She even started to put on a little flesh, which delighted Wolf.

Velanna, Sigrun and Justice joined the Wardens and everything came to a head one day when the forces of the darkspawn called "The Mother" launched an attack on Amaranthine. Delia lead a small team to the city, leaving Wolf behind at the Keep. She made the hard decision to try to save the city and leave the Keep with whatever forces remained there, even though it was now being attacked too. She tried not to think of Wolf and everyone left behind but the thought pressed her to fight furiously. She had to get back...

But she couldn't even go back when the city was saved. She needed to follow the darkspawn back to their lair and eradicate The Mother. The battle was difficult. They were nearly overwhelmed with her children and tentacles, but somehow they killed her. The Architect fled, promising her he would find a way to end the cycle of blights. She believed him. She wanted to believe him.

Despite everything they had been through, Delia pushed them at a furious pace back to the Keep. The attack there was over. The Vigil had withstood the attack, only a few of the older walls had fallen. The interior was relatively untouched. Varel met her as she walked in. He read the anxious expression on her face. His own face did not reassure her.

"He's upstairs, Commander. He's been wounded."

"With me, Anders." She charged upstairs and into her room. He lay on her bed looking still as death. She fell to her knees beside him. "Damn it, Wolf." She touched his forehead, he was burning with a fever, his skin looked bruised and far too pale. She couldn't see any visible wound.

"What is it, Anders?"

He leaned over him and placed his hands on his chest, probing into his body with his magic. He shook his head. "I can't cure this, Delia."

"What do you mean? You can cure everything." Delia began to sob. "Don't lie to me, just fix him."

"Del," Anders pulled her away from him. "He's blighted."

"No!" she screamed. "He's not. He's just ill." She pulled away from Anders and threw everything out of her pack looking for a healing potion. She poured it into his mouth and it dribbled down the side of his mouth, pooling on the bed beneath him.

Anders pulled her back. "Delia, stop. There's only one way, you know this."

She knelt over him, crying. "I'm sorry, Wolf. I shouldn't have left you here." She buried her face into his chest and sobbed.

Anders left and returned a little later with Varel and the Joining chalice.

"Commander," Varel said softly, pulling her back from him. "Anders, can you hold him upright?" Anders propped him up.

"Since the first, these words have been spoken at the ceremony: Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you." Varel spoke the words with his usual solemnity.

Delia knelt beside him, grasping his hand and desperately hoping it wasn't too late. She nodded to Varel and he poured the blood into his mouth. He choked and gasped and his fingers flexed around Delia's. The tears slid down her face as she watched. He seemed to struggle against an unseen opponent for a moment and then he went limp.

Anders said nothing, but his look of concentration said he was looking within him. Varel put his hand on Delia's shoulder as they waited.

Finally Anders looked at her. "He will live, Delia."

Her last ounce of self-control crumbled and she sobbed hysterically with relief. She crawled on the bed and wrapped herself around him. Varel and Anders left, casting pitying looks at Delia.

She sobbed quietly hoping he wouldn't hate her for this. What right did she have to make this decision for him? But he would have become a ghoul if she hadn't acted. He was slipping away so quickly. She finally fell asleep against him and didn't awaken until he moved.

"Delia," he said. "You're back?" He squeezed her against him and she looked up at him, her eyes rimmed red and her face wet with tears. "I thought I was going to die." He hugged her to him. "Anders fixed me up? Tell him, he did a lousy job. I have a terrible headache and my stomach feels strange."

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed. "You were blighted. You would have turned into a ghoul if we hadn't..." She couldn't finish the sentence because her sobs choked her again.

"You had to do what?" he asked, hugging her to him harder. "Why are you crying? I'm going to be okay."

"We had to make you a Grey Warden. We made you take the blood. It was the only way. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never would have done it without your permission but you were nearly gone."

"Del, wolfling, it's okay. Stop crying." He bent down and kissed her hair, trying to soothe her.

"There are things you don't know. Some of the secrets I kept from you."

"How bad can it be, you're one and you seem fine."

"You've only got another thirty or so years to live, Wolf. The taint will overcome you and you will turn into a ghoul. Usually Wardens choose to go down fighting swarms of darkspawn in the Deep Roads instead."

He shrugged. "It's better than dying today, I think. What else?"

"We have to die to end a blight."

Wolf's brow furrowed. "But you didn't. Besides, the blight is over right?"

Delia ignored his question. "The worst part is, it makes having children very difficult. With a non-Warden, it is possible but difficult, but two Wardens it is almost impossible."

"So you're saying we couldn't have children together?" Wolf looked at her curiously. "Does that mean you wanted to? Have children? I mean, with me?"

She nodded. "I thought there was a chance, however slim."

"Delia, that doesn't change how I feel about you. You're more to me than some brood mare. I love you, my heart. Does it matter so much to you?"

She shook her head. "Not as much as being with you. You really love me?"

"I do. The question is, do you love me, wolfling?"

"I'm madly in love with you, Wolf. I was going to throw myself out of the window if the Joining didn't work. Then I was so afraid you would hate me for it." She sobbed again with her excess of emotions.

"I have only one fear, Delia," he said holding her close. "I am afraid you will run off to Antiva to get back at that assassin who tried to kill you. Promise me you won't."

"I can't promise that, Wolf. He may send more. I might be forced to deal with it."

"Then promise me if you do go you'll take me with you."

She was silent. She didn't want to risk him there. She knew the ways of assassins and he didn't. "I will, if you learn from me all that I learned from... him."

"I will, my love."

"Then I promise you, I won't go to Antiva without you. Perhaps I won't go at all."

"One more thing..." he said. He took his necklace off and detached his mother's ring. "Would you marry me?"

"That was your mother's?" She looked into his eyes, her own were filling with tears again.

"It was. Papa gave it to her in better days in Rivain."

"I would be proud to be your wife, Wolf, if you teach me how to pronounce your last name properly." The tears spilled down her cheeks and she kissed him. He put the ring on her finger and kissed her hand.

His stomach rumbled fiercely and he moaned.

"That's the appetite of the newly Joined," she told him. "Do you feel good enough to get up?"

Wolf nodded.

"Let's get you downstairs to some food." She helped him up and got him dressed.

The other Wardens greeted him warmly as their newest brother and the cook scurried around to fill his belly.

...

_**Note: **Almost done. One more chapter where we see something interesting happening in Antiva._


	15. Chapter 15

**Antiva City, Antiva**

The air was wet with sound, a dog yelped and a woman screamed a string of curses in the distance. The ground still gave off heat, even though the evening was cooling. The Crow Master sipped a cool drink and silently raised his glass to the beautiful woman who lounged on a divan across from him. She fanned herself indifferently.

She was Veronica, the most famous cortigiana (courtesan) in Antiva. Her wealth had been made from entertaining wealthy nobles and merchant princes. She was the most highly sought after dinner guest in recent Antivan history, other than Zevran Arainai. Zevran's reputation as the lover and companion of Delia Tabris, the so-called Hero of Ferelden, guaranteed he was showered with opportunities. Veronica pushed the thought out of her mind. She was the owner of a Crow cell was she not? That had been an interesting turn in her life. One of her patrons had left it to her when he had died. He had recognized that she was a genius in her own right. Who better to guide the cell than someone who moved easily through the highest social strata of Antiva?

The change of ownership had been fraught with difficulties. The other Crow owners had thought to wrestle control away from her and there had been scheming and plots from the outset. Her deceased patron had been wise with giving her the Crows. She had managed to stay a step ahead of them all. Her intriguing had been ruthless and her Crow Master was accomplished.

The crunch of a boot on the pink paving stones announced a visitor. Veronica looked up. It was one of the Crows.

"What is it?" she said.

"I have a report from Ferelden, my lady," the assassin bowed to her and to his master.

Veronica sat up, finally interested in something. "Oh! This should be interesting. Do tell."

"The contract on the Commander of the Grey Wardens did not succeed. All the Crows were killed and the Bann Esmerelle has been tried and hung."

Veronica's champagne laugh tinkled through the black heat of the evening. "Very well," she waved away the assassin. "Go... kill something. Your master and I must talk."

The Crow bowed again and left them.

"Well, this makes twice now doesn't it?" Veronica snapped her fan shut and stood, pacing the courtyard. Her voluminous skirts swept the pink pavers. "Two failures to kill a mere woman."

The Crow Master laughed. "That woman killed an archdemon," he reminded her. "I told you we'd need to send an army after her."

"Oh no, my pet," she rubbed her hand along the handsome jaw of her Crow Master, "then we might have succeeded. While success would have brought its rewards, failure is ever so much rewarding in this case."

The Master took her hand in his and kissed her fingers. "What do you mean, Veronica?" His dark eyes watched her carefully.

"If you'd succeeded it would have sent a score of angry Grey Wardens seeking vengeance for her death. Satisfying, yes? Effective, yes. But ultimately this brings humiliation. Another failure. A weakening of reputation. Do you not see this, Lorenzo?" she kissed the dark-skinned face of her handsome Crow Master. "Perhaps even the Hero herself will come to Antiva to punish him. There are rumors that she is as skilled as he is, perhaps more so."

He chuckled a low laugh. "She must be, to have defeated Vito. He was the best we had. I am sorry to lose him."

Veronica laughed again. "We had to make it look real, didn't we? Zevran will be mocked all over Antiva. Defeated by a woman twice. I don't know if he'll ever recover from this. His patron may very well get rid of him and then, my Lorenzo, we can take over the Count's cell while his new Crow Master fumbles. Perhaps then the other Crow owners will understand that Veronica and Lorenzo are a force to be reckoned with. You see this, yes?"

Lorenzo smiled. He had been reluctant to accept the contract on the Warden-Commander but Veronica had seen from the beginning how to bend this to their advantage. Forging Zevran's signature was a trivial matter. She was magnificent and he knew that together they would be rid of this upstart Zevran before long.

"Ready yourself, Lorenzo. I find myself excited at our prospects." She reached over and caressed him through his breeches, hoping, and finding, him ready for her. Lorenzo scrambled to release himself from his breeches while Veronica lifted her skirts and straddled him.

The wet sounds in the black heat of the Antivan night carried a victorious coupling forged of intrigue and deceit. It was typical.

...

_And so we see, Zevran isn't the cad Delia believes him to be. I remember one of the endings of Awakenings they mentioned that Zevran and the Commander were rumored to have had a huge battle in Antiva. That's what I have had in the back of my mind while writing this. It might make an interesting sequel, someday. However, I'm currently caught up in writing "A Southern Californian in King Cailan's Court". Please give it a look! It's a bit different from anything else I've written. The idea is that someone, me actually, is transplanted into Elissa Cousland's body and has absolutely no idea of what is going on._

_My sincere thanks to my lovely reviewers. I write for you guys and I always love hearing from you!__  
_


End file.
